The Butt Text

This morning, just like every morning, there he was, longtime hubby, in the corner of the kitchen, staring into his phone, reading updates and whatevers on his phone, when suddenly, he registered a kind of shock. It was the drawn-out kind, not the horror movie kind. There was no screaming, no grabbing of the heart, just a low-key, lowercase oh...my...god. From my comfy perch on the couch, I couldn't ignore his reaction. On a daily basis, I'm the one who says Oh! My! God! with at least three exclamation points. He's the one who pretty much underplays everything. Except when he's watching sports. Or Meet The Press. Or MSNBC. Or driving. In those cases, he's cursing loudly, for sure, but rarely, if ever, referencing God in his rant. So this morning's oh...my...god got my attention. And it went something like this:
"Oh...my...god."
"What?"
"I just got a butt text."
"A butt dial?"
"A butt text."
"Someone texted you with their butt?"
"Someone texted me their butt."
"WHAT???!!!"
"I'm looking at a woman's naked ass."
"Oh dear God, in heaven, show me right now."
I grabbed the phone out of his hand, and yep, there it was, a very suggestive shot of a gal's rear end, along with a text. "Hey, it's me, Jenni from Badoo, wasn't last night the best, gimme a call."
"My first spam text."
"Mazel tov."
"I'm deleting it right now."
"You don't seem thrown by the tushie shot."
"If you've seen one ass, you've seen them all."
"Look," I said, pointing to the TV, "there's an orange one right now."