My friends, it is apparent to me that we have an epidemic on our hands.
Yes, I am talking about the horror that IS Testicular Blindness.
Isn't it true that Bulls charge the cape because it's about the only thing they see moving? Don't they have huge testicles? It's like as the boys descend, so does some sort of film over the eyes of the ovary-challenged, and they lose the ability to find the things that are right in front of them.
Where are my socks? Um... in the drawer? Oh.
Yesterday the Honey blamed the decided lack of Christmas lights on the outside of the house on the fact that he and Big O could not find them. I snorted and said something under my breath about sending money to the Institute for Testicular Blindness (It's a charitable institution loosley associated with CRSE's brilliant School for the Chronic Asshole).
The Honey challenged me.
He said we should test my theory, using our sweet Little O, who is delightfully testicle free.
I agreed.
We got home, and I casually asked Little O to get me the Christmas lights for outside.
She ran joyfully into the house, straight to the table in the living room where all things christmas are stuffed out of the way, and pulled, FROM THE FRONT, CLEARLY VISIBLE from any angle in the living room, the very box that had been invisible to the boys.
Testicular blindness, people.
2 comments:
Is there such a thing as testicular memory (or lack thereof...)? It would explain a lot.
Hahaha! that is hysterical! My husband also has Testicular Retardation... he asks me stupid questions all the time like "Where do you want me to put the leftovers?" To which I ask, "Do you really want me to tell you where to put that?"
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