Guys, here's the move for your "Rapture Romp": (All times local)
5:30 pm - Tell your wife you have to run an errand.
5:55 pm - Call your wife and start a conversation
6:00 pm – Interrupt with "Whoa! Did you feel that? It felt like an earthquake! Why do I feel tingly? Oh no! The Raptu…" and hang up and shut off your phone.
6:01 pm – Meet up with your buddies at the bar.
2:00 am – When the bar closes, have your Puerto Rican friend "Jesus" drive your drunk ass home.
2:30 pm – Return home. Explain that St. Peter decided you didn't make the cut, so Jesus brought you home. And no, you're not drunk you're still gobsmacked (and you have to use the term "gobsmacked") from the awe of being at Heaven's gate. And that's not beer on your breath, that Heavenly ambrosia. And ask your wife if she's really an angel who escorted you home.
Should totally work. Let me know how this goes for you. I'd try it myself, but the wife reads my blog.
And Cora would totally KEEEL ME if I tried a stunt like this.
7 comments:
And I'm going to KEEEL you for posting that picture. Just FYI.
:-P
I knew the risks.
This is even better than your facebook post about it, just because of the pure awesomeness of Cora's look!
It wouldn't work for me, darn it! I don't have a wife.
And is it wrong that I was so distracted by Cora's boobaliciousness that I didn't even notice her expression til right now?
I once met a guy named Jesus at a bar in Brooklyn. (And he really did pronounce it with a J.) He walked up to me, told me he loved me, hugged me for like 5 minutes while I laughed and then asked me if I wanted to go in the bathroom and do some blow. As you might have guessed, it didn't work out between us.
This is even better than the tweet I saw that said (paraphrased): be on the phone with Mom & hang up at 6. Don't answer when she calls back.
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