Mike Durrett: CONFIDENTIAL
My wife believes my shrieking, hollering, screaming, and general epithet-laden vitriol and pouty puckers aimed at our @#$%^&*! politicians are improvised on the spot for her benefit. Nuh uh, nay, I do it all day long while she's not around. I'm a professional snark. I hone my craft and give my beloved only the sweetest of rages and loathing.
Oh. And you kitties can come out from under the bed. Daddy's better now. Daddy loves you. Daddy's softly.
Listening to and satisfying each other's whims are key.
For Valentine's, I told the missus I wanted a Dux Bed.
She forked me fresh hay.
She also flung poultry feed stamped "BEAK MINE" and "WADDLE ME."
No rest for the ducky.
Never cease with acts of kindness and romance.
As an example, the other night at the movies, we saw "The King's Speech," and I let Donna snuggle with me behind the spit guard.
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