My husband is gonna refuse to watch tv with me if I continue this...or he's just gonna smother me with a pillow the next time I open my mouth...
I was putzing around, getting kids to bed, etc. when I walked into our room. I realized I was missing Dirty Jobs, just as Mr W pointed to the tv set.
"He's gonna sing," he said.
"Nah-uh," I said, as I spun to look at the screen.
(I'd mentioned to Mr W that I'd "heard" the host of Dirty Jobs was in theater or something previously, and that he sang.)
I giggled like a 11 year old, watching and waiting.
Oh, good lord, he's making candy with a sweet little old lady. They're talking about opera (here it comes) ...he's singing. In Italian! Oooh, nicely done~~
I look at Mr W, who enjoys the show enough to overlook my silliness; who is wayyy too tolerant of me when it comes to my grinning at the tv screen. I shouldn't push my luck, but of course, I can't help it.
As he finishes singing, I look at Mr W: "I'm leaving you."
He flips me off.
Which is his right, since I'm being an idiot.
The next part of the segment involved the host smearing chocolate on a table with his hands to make peanut butter cups.
This time, I was wise enough to say nothing.