So the other night I smelled something good cooking in the oven. Naturally I sauntered my fat ass over to check out what all the hubbub was about. Saw some chocolaty looking shit making sweet music. I was getting ready to tear into it when the First Lady comes hauling ass out of nowhere telling me they are horse treats. Horse treats? Really? Umm when was the last time you baked me a desert item? How about never. I’m freaking starving over here. I’m living on goldfish and you’re baking horse treats. I sacrifice so much of my life writing blogs, can I at least get some chocolate chip cookies? I mean, I been robbed of my most of my money, can I at least get freshly baked brownies from my wife without the people wanting to harass me and wanting to throw me in jail? It just doesn’t get lower than this for a husband. Rule #1 of being a wife. If you have time for horse treats you should have time for human cookies too.
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