laundry!

[dragonlady7]

Me: I'm going to go do laundry, so if you have anything dirty, give it to me.
[I turn around. Dave's standing in the hallway naked, handing me the clothes he was wearing. I stare at him, dumbfounded. (He's not the nudist type.)]
Dave: I'm going to bed. I don't need those anymore.
Dave: *goes to bed* Turn out the lights, will you?

Well, he follows directions.

So there was my Thrill of the Evening. (Perhaps I'm lying. You'll never know. Nor will you care. But I prefer to believe I have some sort of aura of mystery. Which I don't, as I'll probably tell all later in this post. I have not yet mastered this "aura of mystery" crap.)

radaromalley, recently returned Stateside from his second tour in Kuwait, is keeping things interesting in his journal by taking requests. What kind of requests? Well, see, he's not a very good singer, but he loves singing in his car really loudly, so he's taking requests, and he's going to do phoneposts of himself singing in his car.
This is brilliance. And more than just O'Malley's usual brilliance.

During our courtship, Dave used to sing me Monster Ballads on road trips, loudly and off-key. There's something about a man with an entirely indifferent voice totally going for (and completely missing) the high note in Mr. Big's "To Be With You" that just melts the heart strings like a butane torch.
(And Dave always does the Richie Sambora (sp?) parts in Bon Jovi songs. ... and I'm wanted, "Wanted!" howls Dave, dead or alive...)


Y'all have Dave to thank, incidentally, for the finale of my Valentine's Porn-With-Plot extravaganza being not totally lame. I was asking his opinion on, er, choreography, and he talked me out of the lame ending I was going to chicken out and do. So, Dave gets to be my Slash Muse. Irony! (Me: If you were going to kiss a man, would it be different from how you'd kiss a woman? Dave: 'Fuck should I know??! Me: Come on, c'mere and help me out with the choreography. Dave: *proceeds to fondle my breasts* Me: That's not helping!!)

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[gyen-gaoltosing.livejournal.com]

(Me: Come on, c'mere and help me out with the choreography. Dave: *proceeds to fondle my breasts* Me: That's not helping!!)

I've been smiling about this for the last couple of minutes. I am very familiar with this scenario myself. :p