His Name Is Poompy.

I've decided to start calling M "Poompy" because I think "M" sounds too ominous. He HATES the nickname Poompy. Which is another reason why I'm calling him that. Because it's funny to torture someone who is so good and kind and sweet. You know, someone who doesn't deserve to be tortured. I think he thinks that I'm calling him Poompy because of his bathroom habits or something, but that's actually not the case. When I was little, my mama called farts "poomps". If I farted, she'd say, "did you poomp?" I just want to keep the word alive. And, ok, he can be a little poompy sometimes. Especially when he eats Ben and Jerry's with me. He's asleep next to me right now, dreaming of lovely things like circular saws and electric drills, no idea at all that I'm writing to the internets about him and his poompiness. Poompy. I think it's fitting.

Good night folks. Sweet dreams, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite. For real.
xopoop.