I couldn't sleep last night.
I tossed and I turned and I aggravated my dear husband by poking him suggestively and groping him with the innocent exclamation "Well - that's NOT Phoebe's, is it?!" For some reason - when I can't sleep - I instantly start bugging Harry to "put out." Even if I'm not in the mood.
Now, don't get me wrong, if I went about it in a different way, it may be sexy and fun - but I attack him like a sex-starved "Lolita" - just for my own amusement.
He rolls over and fakes a snore. I retaliate by grabbing a handful of his Polo Man Panties-clad bubble butt.
He pretends to not notice.
I go for the two-handed handful-o-buttcheek approach.
He still ignores my immature cannoodling.
I take a more active stance - I give him a "reach around."
He hops up, rolls over and yanks all the pillows out from under my head. In one fail swoop, I've been incapacitated.
But I'm still not tired.
Seeing as how I would find no release for my over-worked mind, I rolled over in a fit of motion - and felt my leg contact with something warm and fuzzy.
I punted Phoebe off the bed.
Bad move. Now, I'm sure I'm not going to get a good night's sleep seeing as how I'm going to have to keep one eye on my hubby who will be looking for vengence and the other on his short, pissed-off accomplice.
I plan on going to bed tonight with the tv on Sportscenter and a bag full of kitty treats in my hand just to appease my victims...