Jul 262009
 

Henry wants everyone to know that his modeling obligations are fulfilled and he gets to go to bed as soon as he finishes cooking eggs for Blake.

I remember way back when Henry and I started “goin’ together” and he would cook me breakfast. I was like, “Dear Diary, this is some hot shit right here. A fucking dude who cooks for me? Like, a real life EGG? In a frying PAN? I didn’t even know I HAD a frying pan. Wait, what’s a frying pan?” and I was determined that I would keep him around. Trap him with pregnancy if I had to. Because that is the bomb right there, a fucking man who cooks.

I don’t think I even ATE breakfast pre-Henry.

The only thing that would have made it better would have been if he served it on an authentic Star Wars TV tray from the seventies.

Oh, and for someone who has to go to bed, oh my god must go to bed, he’s hovering over me chanting, “Let me see the jump rope pictures. Let me see my pictures. I want to see my pictures before I go to bed.” GODDAMN, who’s the nag now, bitch.

  One Response to “#36 breakfast shit”

  1. awwww. A man who cooks. I should talk to my daughters about the myth of a man who cooks.
    I wonder what your love letters to Henry look like…

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