I tried to do my girlfriend-y part last night by appealing to the HB's sense of honor and duty and manly sense of protecting what was his. I tried but it's not my fault the HB's ego was in anti-stroking mode. I was all ready to swoon at his feat and praise is almighty bug killing skills. Truly I was.

We had just finished up a wonderful meal that I cooked (i.e. sat in line at the new A&W/KFC drive-thru for ten friggin' minutes!) when all of a sudden I heard a bug. A big bug fluttering its little buggy wings. It sounded like it was coming from the lamp next to where I was sitting so I shot up off the cushion and ran to the opposite side of the couch. The HB didn't even look my way. Is that too much to ask when I do something like that? I mean, I don't make a habit of jumping off the couch like I just got bit in the butt by a rogue alligator living between the cracks of the couch cushions. The least he could do was wonder what the hell was up!

He was too busy engrossed in the television I guess. James Bond was on. So I clued him in. The HB, not Bond. I told him of the big scary bug that was hiding in the lampshade. The HB was unfazed.

ME: "But it might attack me! You have to kill it!"

HB: "No I don't."

Where's Bond when you need him. I'm sure he would have captured the bug for me. I sat back down on the couch, hoping I'd get attacked so I could yell, "SEEEEEEE! I told you so!" I'm not one for petty pointing out-ing, but I will make exceptions now and then.

I sat. I sat and nothing happened. Then a few minutes later I heard the flutter of insect wings again.

ME: "Did you hear that?"

HB: "Hear what?"

ME: "The bug!"

I muted the television. The sound didn't reoccur. I got up and bravely shook the lamp. Nothing happened. I was sure the bug would have been disrupted enough to flit around a bit in disgust for having his new place of residence disturbed, but nothing happened.

The commercial ended and the movie we were watching came back on. Our attentions were diverted. Throughout the movie though I kept hearing the bug wing flutter. And I kept spazzing out, whipping my head around every time to see if the bug was flying out to attack me. It never did. So I got to thinking, 'What if there is no bug?'

Wouldn't it be cool if you could pull off some of that Matrix shit? You know, realize you're in the Matrix and that you can't make the bug disappear, because that is impossible. You can only realize one thing, that there is no bug. Then whammo! No more bug. If I could do that, I'd realize that there really isn't all that fat on my ass. Whammo! No fat ass. And these clothes? Pathetic. I'd picture myself with a badass black leather Trinity outfit. Complete with the long leather jacket and boots. And Niobe's sunglasses. Those sunglasses were the bomb shizzy nits. But I digress...

So I got to thinking, 'What if there is no bug?' That's when I noticed my purse. When I came home with dinner I threw my purse down on the floor next to a chair. And under the chair was a plastic bag full of junk. I noticed that now the junk was spilling out of the plastic bag, ever so slightly, because my purse had knocked into it, disturbing its restful state. So the side of the plastic bag was slowly lowering under the pressure of the junk. Gravity can be a bitch sometimes. And the sound of crinkling plastic folding under the pressure sounds an awful lot like bug wings flittering about. Really it does. D'oh!

I was about to announce this discovery to the HB. Then I came to my senses (which didn't take long since I have so few). I'd rather let him think I was hearing some bug only one person could hear at a time than hearing the sound of crinkling plastic. It wasn't much better of a choice, but I took it.

And speaking of my HB, my live in boy toy, I found a new possible meaning for the HB abbreviation yesterday.

From the pseudodictionary:
hottie bombalottie - The ultimate "hottie"-- can be pronounced either hottie boom-ba-lottie or bum-ba-lottie. HB is abbreviation.

Hottie bombalottie is today's secret phrase. Remember boys and girls, if you hear this phrase, scream real loud and point your finger at the person who said it.