The other day, Hubba-hubba went to Costco.
Now, lest you think it some onerous chore I saddled him with, he actually enjoys going to Costco. And really, he is worse than any woman, because he always comes home with something extra that was not on the list. You know, because it was cool or it looked good or whatever. Impluse control, he needs some.
Now I know that you know that Costco has oversized portions of pretty much everything.
Because he has a sweet tooth, Hubba-hubba was drawn to a big old vat of refrigerated cookie dough.
He pulled it off the shelf, only to be greeted with a stern, "You shouldn't be buying that!"
But wait, Gina, you say. I thought you told us you sent Hubba-hubba to Costco, so that means you weren't there!
Yes, the rule-enforcer, my right-hand man Mr. P was there to make sure that no large tubs of cookie dough made their way into our house.
With the snickering of other customers in the background who heard the admonition, Hubba-hubba put it back like a good boy.
Dude's got my back. It's a good feeling.