A little background on this conversation that happened last night between my husband and I: I wear padded bra's. I like to wear padded bra's. The acorns that God gave me need all the help they can get, mmkay?
So, my husband thinks he's a comedian:
Ryan (as he walks into our bedroom with a basket full of laundry): Hey, you gonna help with this or not?
Me (all curled up snug as a bug on our couch): Ya, just give me a minute.
I walk into the bedroom and start folding the jeans.
Ryan: Um, I found your boobs in the washer, here you go. (He hands me two pads from my bra that was washed).
Me (bending over laughing so hard that I can't breath): Well, why didn't you dry them?
Ryan (with a totally straight faced, sober look): Well, I didn't want them to shrink.
I'm basically curled up on the floor, laughing, holding myself, because I'm about to pee my pants. And Ryan's got tears in his eyes he's laughing so hard.
How does he come up with this shit?