That photo is a little snapshot, if you will, of what I wore to the October triFABB meetup last night. A more comprehensive recap of the meetup to come. However today, this post is not about that.

This post… is a story of my husband acting all cray cray.

Even though my husband and I have been together for a few years, married and living together for eight months (we didn’t live together before marriage… we traditional like that), it’s amazing how much we continue to learn about each other.

Like, I found out the other night that my husband has never, ever, in his entire life heard the song, “It’s Raining Men” by The Weather Girls. Now, it’s not like I’d expect it to be his favorite song or anything, but I mean, really?! You’ve NEVER HEARD that song?! What?! Cray.

Anyway.

So, on Tuesday night, John and I headed up to bed, but I had to stay up late working. I had been working on my laptop next to him for at least an hour and a half with him fast asleep.

All of a sudden, this exchange happened**:

**(and yes, I wrote down every word he said… I was lucky enough to have my computer right there… also, this story IS being shared with the permission of my husband.)

[SCENE: I am sitting on my computer next to sleeping husband. John rolls over, faces me, mumbling.]

John: so yes?
yes?
                  [pause. mumbles]
Your suitcase is a bomb?
Me: What?
John: That’s what Obama’s done.
It’s made out of explosives.
Me: Again, huh?
John: I don’t know why he…    [trails off… mumbles]
It’s true…    [trails off… mumbles]
I don’t know how he’s asleep.
Me: Who’s asleep?
John: You now what I’m talking about right?
Me: No, no I don’t.
John: It’s how they do the…    [trails off… mumbles]
They’ll make like a line…    [trails off… mumbles]
Make the people…    [trails off… mumbles]
              [pauses as if really trying to come up with something]
What’s the opposite of able to be blown up?
Me: WHAT?
John: Like, if something is flammable, what’s the opposite of it can be blown up?
Me:: Do you mean flame retardant?
John: No. There has to be a word that fits.
What’s the word?
Me: I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.
John: It’s not flammable, but it’s like, flammable.
Me: Go back to sleep, babe.
John: [pauses again] Let’s suppose there was an FBI agent that was like…
Somebody said you cannot blow up all FBI agents, like “I can’t be blown up.”
What would the word for that be?
Me: I have absolutely no clue.
John: This is very frustrating because it’s so simple in my mind, but I can’t think of what the word is.
Me: Clearly.

Immediately, John turned back over to the other side and started snoring.

HILARIOUS. I was so glad I had a blank doc open so I could capture that, because it was just one of those priceless moments.

Sorry for no real outfit post today, it was just too funny not to document so that I can look back for years and give my husband heck about it.

Honestly, I don’t know what was more funny though, the conversation that night, or the conversation the next morning when I read to him what he said. He swears he sort of remembers it, but doesn’t know the context.

Yeah, me neither. I don’t think we’ll ever know the context. No one, could ever, possibly, know the context of that.