Let me preface this by saying that Mr. Superman nor I smoke weed. I know I have to put that out there because SOMEONE is bound to think the contrary.
I started work this week. I would drop Mr. Superman off at base, come home to veg a bit, get ready, then head to work myself. After getting off work, I would come home, veg for 20 minutes, then head to base to pick him up. This ensued after being home together for a little while and I was smoochin' my man. I had also been complaining of hunger for a while.
Him: What is that?
Me: What?
Him: You smell like weed.
SILENCE
Me: What!?
Him: Seriously you do.
Me: You are crazy.
PROCEED SMOOCHING
Him: Okay, you REALLY smell like weed.
Me: Is it my hands? (Has him smell my hands)
Him: No.
Me: Is it my hair? (Puts head down so he can smell it.)
Him: Nope.
Me: Is it my breath? (Kisses him again)
SILENCE
Him: Yes!
SILENCE
Him: What do you do at work babe?
Me: Oh come on, you can't be serious!
SILENCE
Me: I swear that's not why I'm starving either.
Him: Nice.


