Different Strokes For Different Folks. An Ode To Mr. Hawthorne.

Mr. Hawthorne got home from work today and I anxiously asked him about my dessert. Would you like to hear about it? Would you like me to make it for you? Would you , please, please, ... anything. He kinda dissed me. Then when I started bitchin' he paid attention. "Wha? Huh?" Yeah, that's attention. I was trying to tell him about the apple, walnut, blue cheese, white choc ganache. He didn't kinda diss me. He TOTALLY dissed me. What is WRONG with this man? I had to bitchslap him into today, then, finally, he said, "I don't like blue cheese with anything sweet." How would he know? He hasn't had the blue cheese with anything. Why not TRY it? Before you DISS me four ways till tomorrow, Shithead. OH yeah, it's MR. SHITHEAD. Got it. ETA: Sorry, people. I have issues tonight. Mr. H. could read this right now and understand everything and where I'm coming from. That's why I love him. Hours later: ETA: He just read the last post. Out Loud. In my voice. With all the nuances and emphases, and yelling at the proper times. It was quite funny. Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne. If you ever might read this one.