Freshman: “When I was little, I refused to eat Panda Express, because I thought it was made of real pandas.”
Me: “It is.”
Freshman: “Shut up, Ms. M.”
Ryan and I came of age in the 80’s-90’s, and both have an deep affection for West Coast rap from that era, despite being a pair of pasty, middle-class dorks with zero street cred. We’ve been trying to find a time to see Straight Outta Compton for two weeks, with no success, but THIS WEEKEND…it will finally happen, thus this conversation.
Me: Movie and dinner? Hardcore couch makeout, after?
Ryan: Tomorrow, yes? Are we finally going to see our movie?
Ryan: Did you just emoji NWA?
Me: Yes, yes, I did.
Ryan: *slow clap*
Things my mother REALLY doesn’t like…violence, guns, tattoos, motorcycles, and men with long hair, so NOTHING about this conversation makes sense.
Mom: You watch Sons of Anarchy, right?
Me: Yeah. Why?
Mom: There’s a quiz online for you to find out which character would be your husband. (Sends link)
Me: Lol…okay. Mom where did you find this, you’ve never even seen an episode of that show.
Mom: I got Jax and from description he looked pretty good. Heh heh heh.
Me: Jesus, Mother.
And, mom…because I know you’re going to read this…a gift from me to you.
So, the only thing worse than surviving a week-long, record breaking heatwave in Phoenix…is having your air conditioning die right in the middle of it. Four days and three repairmen later…we’re finally back in our house.
Me: I’m no longer a vagrant!
Ryan: Yea! Did you lower the thermostat to 72, just because you can?
Me: The house is finally down to 84, I’m trying not to push it too fast.
Ryan: I had a brand new unit go out once, and the house got up to 95. The cats weren’t happy.
Me: I’m guessing because the fur?
Ryan: I tried to get them wet, but they didn’t like it.
Me: I’m gonna go ahead and let you reread that last sentence to yourself.
Me: My mother is watching some BBC period drama on Netflix. The giggling and whining about dowries is killllling me.
Ryan: Have you even seen The Quiet Man? That’s my kind of take on dowries. Beer and fighting, just like God and the Irish intended.
Me: Well, I come with my own Waterford and a paid-off college education, if that does it for you.
Ryan: I have a box of my grandmother’s china and a baseball signed by the 1979 Pittsburgh Pirates.
Me: I can’t resist a good baseball, especially when it’s been handled by pirates.
Ryan: Generally, I’m against letting pirates touch my balls.
Me: It’s the hook-hand, isn’t it?
Ryan: It is now.
Caolinn: “My chemistry teacher loves me, and I don’t know why.”
Me: “Why do you think she loves you?”
Caolinn: “Because she sat me in the front row and she always asks me questions.”
Me: (incredulous look)
Me: “I love that you think that means she loves you.”
Me: Soooo, I got my new plate.
Ryan: You get a good one?
Me: (Sends picture)
Ryan: Haaaaaa! Can’t. Stop. Laughing.
Me: I am NOT keeping these.
Ryan: Are you sure? It’ll make you incredibly popular when you park in the student parking lot.
Me: Jesus fucking Christ.
Ryan: Whatever prisoner printed those is currently laughing his ass off.
Me: Can we be clear that the prisoner in question is PROBABLY a former student of mine?
Ryan: Are you going to order vanity plates now?
Me: The irony is, that if I had tried to order this EXACT plate, the DMV would have rejected my request.
Ryan: What are you going to do?
Me: Ughhhhh…I refuse to spend $50 for vanity plates.
Ryan: Well, then…you only have one option.
Me: Which is?
Ryan: Take them to the DMV, wait in line for a few hours, and then explain to a bureaucrat how you don’t want to advertise that you get “BNRS469”.
Ryan: That would make a much better licence plate.