Let me run you through a little scenario that happens in my house more often than I care to admit. And I know, I know, that you all have done this at least once in your lifetime to someone.

Let’s take a peak shall we?

My hand smells–awful.

(I’m sure you all know where I’m going with this. Tough, you’ll have to look at the rest of the pictures anyway.)

So obviously I want someone else to experience this God-awful smell with me. Most times the lucky person is my husband.

He never wants to smell it for some reason. I guess he has something against awful, objectionable odors.  I make him smell it anyway, whether he wants to or not.

PS I love the illustration of myself–stick legs, and really long arms (or arm I should say). SOMEONE’S living in a fantasy land.

It always ends the same. Me with wide, gape-mouthed anticipation with how bad it smells. Him using every ounce of willpower not to give me a noogie as payback.

[Once again another illustration inspired by Hyperbole and a Half. She obviously is the Queen of Illustrations and much more funny than I am.]

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