Saturday, January 30, 2010
I'm sure I've mentioned on here one or two or eleventy times that Chum has a lover bear that he humps. A LOT. He carries it up the stairs, down the stairs, into the kitchen into the living room, sometimes even makes it up to the bed with him. THAT freaks me out. He once did the deed on the bed while Tom and I were um... and well, when I realized what was going on I felt like it was one big orgy so I grabbed the bear and threw it on the floor and yelled at Chumley, NO MORE SEX ACTS ON OUR BED! He bit my legs. (Chumley, not Tom.)
Anyway, Chumley's bear has always been somewhat of a comfort to him in this twisted perverted way so we let him have his moments because at least he's not biting, peeing or destroying anything. If I take a shower, he runs to his bear and humps. If I leave to get the mail, by the time I get back inside he's assumed the position on his bear. Even if I step outside for a minute to call Wrigs, Chum hops on the bear. I know when I'm gone all day that poor bear must get mutilated. In that pic above he had the bear all tangled up in some yarn but obviously that didn't stop him. So last night Tom and I went downstairs into the family room to test out his new putter and we're not even down there 30 seconds when we hear the howls from Chumley as he mounts his bear.
"He's like the teenager who whacks off as soon as the parents leave the house."
"Gee Tom, thanks for that lovely glimpse into your adolescence."
"I'm not saying I did that."
I make an obscene gesture while raising my eyebrows at him. He grumbles, "Whatever" and returns to putt on his putting machine as Chumley's howls grow louder and louder. We live in a nut house.
Posted by Me at 12:03 PM