Dear Husband,

The next time you pluck a carrot from the garden and it looks like this:





please do not show it to me. Eat it on the spot, or feed it to a bunny, or at least snap its little root-a-dingle off before you bring it into the house and lay it on the counter like it's just a typical vegetable. Because it is not a typical vegetable, Geekster. IT HAS A PENIS. Don't even deny it. That's the Willy McCocklington of edible vegetation, ready to release its load of beta carotene all over the place.

It's not fair. We both know what happens when you leave stuff like that lying around.

I find it.

And I can't help myself.

And then I spend hours sitting in the dark office, giggling as I do terrible, disturbing things with Photoshop and the digital tablet my grandma gave me. Things like this:







And this:








And, um, this:







You are an enabler of the worst kind.

Love,
The Maven

PS: I expect you to compose an apology letter to my grandmother immediately. Do not enclose any carrots. (For all we know, this sickness runs in the family.)