...my stepson will not be getting any action at our house, even when he and his girlfriend are cuddled up on a mattress in the E-man's darkened room.
Exhibit A: The stepmother, who trots in and out with several stacks of folded clothes, unaware until the third trip -- due to the dimness -- that two teenagers are not only present, but in the midst of gazing adoringly into one another's hormone-misted eyes.
Exhibt B: E-man, who is leaping up and down on the mattress, mere inches from the entwined teenage feet, yelling delightedly, "Zhump! Zhump!"
Exhibit C: Tootie, who runs in and out of the room with a half-slip and a plastic tiara on her head, announcing, "I'm a princess ghost. Look, T. Boo!"
Nope, no worries about S-E-X in our house.
Well, except for Hubs, who's always worrying that he -- Hubs, that is -- won't get any.
Like, ever.
(Insert evil cackle of weary mama/failure-of-a-sexpot wife here.)
No comments:
Post a Comment