Hello Veenarians,

We are ashamed of what we did. When our wives found out, we really understood why we should be ashamed. Really.

At first, we didn’t think anything of it. There we were, just living life, doing our thing. And then we got that funny tickle at the back of our minds, y’know, the one that tells you to push the big red button when you’re on a spaceship with limited life-support and only a 2% chance to re-enter atmosphere successfully or everyone dies, and then you see a fellow passenger’s purse-dog sitting next to the space-door that says “Evacuate Into Space – Do Not Use During Flight – Especially for Shitty Purse-Dogs” and that dog is in its eleventh hour of being the bitchiest little Karen demanding to speak to the manager of every shoe and ankle it sees, like it’s some kind of specialized hell-beast crossing of Chihuahuas, Nazis, honey badgers, Indian curry, hemorrhoids, and gasoline yet made for women with multiple pearls to clutch (and they aren’t even the good pearls used at the Annual Gala for “Why Are We Still Looking At Poor People” held on a private yacht in the Gulf of Go Fuck Yourself And Your Children Too), and like, the big red button is right there, like 10 inches from your excited little fingers and closing, but then someone catches you and to distract them you ask if they want to go have sex in the cramped restroom, and they’re so excited about the possibility of having human touch for the first time in ten years that they briefly tear up and they passionately yell “Yes!”, so there you are in the restroom pressed against a stranger that probably just really needs a hug and all you wanted to do was shut that damn dog up and as you’re about to have sex with a strange man it really dawns you how much rich people get away with whatever the fuck they want, and then you realize that you’re rich too because you’re on a spaceship screwing some guy that was accidentally stranded on the shuttle and you know you’ll suffer no consequences of being the father of his child in nine months because you were clever enough to not even ask for his name, but then that devil dog’s still out there and still terrorizing feet with paws of fury and you’ve had it up to here with that little dog and you know that you’re so rich that when you push the button to the explosive decompression door to boot the dog into space that you won’t get in trouble for it but the poor, stranded guy who you definitely will ghost will go to jail for the spacecraft exploding because life is fair for rich people so you run to push the button? That feeling? Yeah…

Well, as I’m sure you can imagine, none of that actually happened.

But, that feeling was there, at the backs of our minds when we did what we realize now we should be ashamed of. And then, our wives found out. And fuuuuuuuck, let us tell you, that car ride home was NO FUN. Fuck man… The way they yelled at us about the struggles of women we thought our wives might be having a threesome with Sylvia Plath, but not a sexy one. But, it did, not, stop. Oh, our wives definitely got big feels and told us as much about how they have to just do all the things and how it is always harder to be a woman and… something, big baby, something…. at this point our wives drove by a set of trees that looked like 80’s Schwarzenegger punching a xenomorph set in a side-scroller dungeon. Oh man, it was badass. That’s when we started texting each other about the trees. Here’s the crazy things, by about two miles down, if you drove around 60-75mph you could actually watch the Arbornator (that’s what we called the Schwarzenegger tree, but you had to pronounce it as “Dee Ah•Bow•Nay•Tuh!!!”) as he trounced the xenomorph with a saw blade to the head. Epic Carnage Topiary!!!

It was mystical… and magical.

That’s when something felt off in the force. We tuned back in to our very righteous shaming just in time to hear our wives inquiringly exasperate: “Well?! Don’t you agree???!”

Whew!!! We’re safe boys! We didn’t miss the question.

“Yes, my love of loves. You are right.”

“So then you won’t stick your dick in the mashed potatoes again?”

…

That’s when we realized this could’ve been so much worse had we left the church BBQ after the apple pies were served.

Now THAT would’ve been shameful.