Busting out the razor

The other morning I was laying on Mark's shoulder, mostly still sleeping, when I got a hair up my nose. Luckily, I was perfectly logical and calm.

Lifting my head and swatting violently at my face, I yelled, "DUDE, STOP PUTTING YOUR NIPPLE HAIRS IN MY NOSE!"

"You might be the first person to ever use that phrase."

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Then this morning I was trying to get Mark to get out of bed, so I went to zerbert him, and I inhaled a hair.

"DUDE! I just inhaled a nipple hair! They are out of control this week!"

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Funniest thing is, Mark has very little chest hair (which I am eternally grateful for). So I think I may actually be inhaling rogue cat hairs.

I may have to shave all the animals in house.

Except the fish. They would get cold.