I would just like to forewarn visitors today that the post you’re about to read contains a good bit of graphic material. Not language, but stuff about the loving. Also, there is a tastefully edited picture of me without a shirt on. Ladies, control yourselves, and proceed at your own risk.





You’ve been warned.

It was a normal Monday night, really.

We had breakfast for dinner, watched Home Alone, put the kids to bed, I had a bath, then we watched Sweet Home Alabama.

Okay, so that doesn’t happen every Monday night. Normally I yell at the kids, then The Missus yells at the kids, then they gripe about not having dinner, we throw some hot dogs at them, then yell at each other, and I spend a lot of time petting Fabulous.

But for some reason, last night went well.

As The Missus and I crawled into bed, we began the early stages of, for the courtesy of the reader, what shall heretofore be called “activities.”

All of the sudden, The Missus got a text.

She looked at her phone, said, “It’s a wrong number,” and set the phone down.

As a man, you would think at this point I’d want to pick up where we left off. Resume the activities, if you will.

“Hand me your phone.”

Thus began a series of text messages.

From the get go, Donnel seemed only interested in one thing. He sent me a picture, so I of course asked him if he wanted one back, and I also asked him if he’d like me to be topless as well.





It seemed as though I had captured the young man’s heart. I would like to say I’m ashamed of the fact that my ample bosom could inspire such lust in the heart of a young black man, but we all know I’m not.

The conversation, which I’m sure you’re keen to get back to, continued.



The boy plays football for Ohio State, or so he claims. A quick search of the Internet not only proved he wasn’t from Atlanta, he also didn’t play football for Ohio State and he was listed as “In a relationship” on the Facebook.

So I called him on it. And I also revealed to him a shocking secret.

I felt like Maury Frickin Povich.

I then sent him a follow up picture for proof.

In the interest of you maintaining your current stomach contents, I’ve done a bit of editing.

Donell never replied, which was fine, because I had “activities” to attend to. By then, The Missus and I were laughing so hard it was almost impossible, but it wasn’t. I will illustrate the union of our love with a tasteful picture.

I can literally use Kevin Hart to illustrate anything.

Upon completion of said activities, The Missus was fiddling around with her nightstand drawer.

I heard a loud crash, a half-curse, and then…

…Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Something, I won’t say what, started going off.

It was seriously the best night I’d had in a long time.

Thanks Donell.