Unfortunately, there are very few readily available books on Erwin Rommel, my son’s assigned topic for 8th grade History. The “book” I ordered on Amazon came today, and it was a whopping 30 pages in large font, claiming to give his full history from birth to death. Bullshit. It’s being returned.
Me: “Will you look at this!? How are they selling this as a ‘book’!?”
Xavier: “What is it?”
Me: “It’s what I bought for Liam to do his report!”
Xavier: “That’s way too small to be a book.”
Me: “It’s a pamphlet!”
Xavier: “It’s like a children’s book…but with Nazis.”
Less than 24 hours after returning from a quick romantic weekend, my dearest darling, Ryan, was felled by an intestinal flu, so he’s been concerned that he might have given it to me.
Ryan: How are you feeling? Still okay?
Me: Are you texting to check on the state of my bowels?
Ryan: Yeah, I guess I am.
Me: In the immortal words of Ashford and Simpson…still Solid As a Rock.
Ryan: I’m thinking more fiber for you.
My sons’ Spanish teacher has apparently given up, and the curriculum now solely consists of them watching Spanish soap operas.
Xavier: “None of us understand enough Spanish, so it’s just a bunch of gibberish, and then a dog runs away, and someone has an affair.”
Liam: “Don’t forget about the ghosts.”
Xavier: “Oh, yeah…and there are ghosts.”
Tracy: “Are you going to Kim’s baby shower tomorrow?”
Me: “Ugh…you know how much I hate those things. I’ll just send her a gift.”
Tracy: “What possible excuse are you going to have to skip this?”
Me: “I just had a colonoscopy. I’m pulling the colonoscopy card.”
Tracy: “I don’t think that’s a card.”
Me: “I had a camera shoved up my ass…how does that NOT earn me a card?”
Tracy: “Fine, but you have to tell her, because I’m not walking into a baby shower with tales about your asshole.”
Me: “A real friend would.”
Tracy: “A real friend doesn’t text pictures of their large intestine to a group chat.”
(Whilst watching a cable news channel…)
Me: “Jesus, every other ad is for erection drugs.”
Xavier: “Let’s please not.”
Me: “I’m going to start calling this ‘the boner channel’.”
Xavier: “Please don’t do that either.
Xavier: “You’re the worst.”
Yes, yes, I know…two posts in a row about fucking novelty bedding. It also should be noted that my sweet, brilliant, rational boyfriend goes completely ape-shit nerd when discussing some sort of controversy regarding whether Han Solo or Greedo shot first in the original movies. It has come up roughly three million times.
Me: Liam is spending his first night in his new Star Wars sheets.
Ryan: Do they make those for a queen-sized bed? I’m asking for a friend.
Me: Yes, but would you really be comfortable getting off in front of Han?
Ryan: It’ll be the first time he didn’t shoot first.
Me: Fine, but if you start making ‘pew pew’ noises during climax, I’m going to be super put off.
Me: You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?