The Unspoken Word

Words spoken:

What kind of ghetto ass place am I working?

Words unspoken: 

Obama: "I am going to eat you alive." 

Romney: "I kind of want to lick you."

WC and I went to a hunting store yesterday. He has a big hunting trip coming up in a few weeks. I am mostly vegetarian (truly pescetarian), but can't deny that sometimes when he talks about hunting it... well... is wicked hot.  I have not told him this. I don't know how to reconcile this with my armchair hippy-ness and I'm afraid it would frighten him. 

He pointed at the gun he has his eye on. I have touched a gun once in my life (thanks Kelly). I wish guns didn't exist as much as I wish unicorns did... not enough to vote against them (or for unicorns... their carbon footprint is HUGE!)

I tried to make fashion commentary on the camo pants and how natural fibers might be a better idea than all that polyester. He was only slightly more amused than when I asked why some of the plastic deer targets looked bashful and afraid. 

I sat on a ATV and let him take my picture. 

Then we shared a veggie burger for dinner and he kept drinking from my wine glass (he wasn't drinking officially because he was running a race the next day). 

Messages sent and received.

"You think this is funny? I'll chew through
that power cord that's hanging down.
Blog then, bitch!"