Isn't It Romantic?

Calypso and Diana were discussing the show Game of Thrones when Calypso swooningly made mention of how one character referred affectionately to his wife as Moon of my Life.  I snorted and remarked that it sounded like she bared her buttocks derisively to her husband to have earned such a pet name.  Calypso was annoyed by my interpretation.  Mr. Lime was inspired and told me I was the hemorrhoid of his butt.  I smiled sweetly and cooed how he was the pus of my pimple.  We were off an running.  Allow me to share the list of other terms of endearment we swapped as we gazed lovingly across the living room.

He is the eye crust of my morning.

I am the scab of his kneecap.

He is the wax of my ear.

I am the snot of his cold.

He is the flake of my eczema.

I am the cavity of his tooth.

He is dandruff of my scalp.

I am the fungus of his feet.

He is the ingrown nail of my toe.

I am the lint of his navel.

He is the stink of my armpit.

I am the canker sore of his lip.



With that our daughters groaned in complete revulsion and left the room...which is more or less the reaction a big, wet smooch used to get when they were younger.  Some people just have no sense of romance.