But don't worry, pumpkin pie honey. You're still ma man. Even though you haven't been able to carry me since, well, ever. But that's not all your fault. Just mostly. You know, I'll never forget the time I hopped up for a piggy back ride, and you collapsed to your knees, screaming~
"GET OFF ME! GET OFF! OH MY HELL, YOU'RE KILLING ME!"
Ahhhhh. (head tilt, heart pat) Good times. Good times. And surprisingly, just that quick, the honeymoon was over. Too bad it was actually ON our honeymoon. But it's OK. I understand. You'd courted me and I was yours. Well played, dear.
Anyway, It's not like I'm going to pursue the Phantom of the Opera. It's just nice to know he cares. Deeply. About me. Princess Lisa. And he thinks I'm enchanting, and would that he could toss me over his shoulder effortlessly, to carry around everywhere he goes, instead of having to substitute stupid Kelly Rippa and Jennifer Aniston.
I was just thinking that, you know, when I'm on my book tour? Well, I'm going to "mention" in passing, to Oprah, that I would JUST LOVE to meet Gerard~that I have a secret crush on him. And it's probable, as Oprah is known to do, that she'll make arrangements to have him on satellite to say a simple, "Hello" to me, and I'll act all surprised and flustered, being excited to meet him over the waves, but then without warning, the satellite will cut out and go to static, like they lost the connection, and I'll be all disappointed and pouty. But suddenly, a roar will erupt in the audience, turning louder and louder and they'll start SCREAMING AND SHOUTING AND POINTING, and THEN...THEN...HE WILL COME WALKING OUT ON THE STAGE BEHIND ME, PUT HIS HANDS OVER MY RIDICULOUSLY BLUE EYES, AND I'LL TURN AROUND AND SEE THAT IT'S THE PHANTOM, AND I'LL HAVE A TOTALLY ADORABLE MELT-DOWN!!! And he'll GRAB me, toss me over his shoulder effortlessly, and carry me off to his lair...and that's where I leave you to use your imaginations...
Just as I've evidently been doing waaaaay tooooooo muuuuuuuch this morning.
OK, time for a shower and a quick glance in the mirror to bring me back.
Hmm. Wow. Now that I stare reality in the face, it's no wonder hubbie can't 'toss' me anywhere. Girth doesn't toss. It heaves.
And in truth, I'd take a heave from my hunky husband over a toss from a fantasy phantom any day. :)