When Real Estate Porn Turns Dark

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(After I sent him a real estate listing for a huge historic estate…)

Ryan: Great property, and I like the tree-lined drive.

Me: It would be perfect for a dog herd.

Ryan: Dogs? We could just set the children loose among the trees!

Me: I don’t even care if the damn thing is haunted.

Ryan: That might even make it better.  Just as long as the walls don’t bleed.

Me: Agreed, I draw the line at supernatural bodily fluids.

Ryan: Wise boundary, you have no idea where those ghosts have been.

Me: Well, yeah, something killed them.

I’m Just A Little Slackery This Year.

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Okay, this is truly pathetic…I mean to post this when it happened in March, so bear with me, and pretend that it’s St. Patrick’s Day, and excuse me for being, apparently, so drunk that I’m just getting around to hitting the ‘publish’ button.

Me: (Sending picture)12733386_10208132405763596_7973043262048863464_n

Ryan: Lick of the Irish?  That sounds like the makings of an excellent evening.

Me: This is why we’re together.

(Five minutes later…)

Ryan: Order whatever you want on it, the kids will eat it.

Ryan: Damn it, disregard, this is what happens when I text you and my mom at the same time.  She and I were trying to figure out what kind of pizza to order for dinner.

Me: Just be happy you texted me about pizza, and didn’t text her about your cunnilingus skills.

Ryan: Yeah, nothing kills the mood more than talking to your mom about giving head.  That’s the anti-viagra.

Me: That will never be on a Cialis ad.

Ryan: If it were, it would be two side-by-side bathtubs with one of them falling over a cliff.

I Live In A Frat House

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Dinner at my parent’s isn’t a formal affair, even when they’re lucky enough to have my fake brother (my best friend, Matthew) over for pasta.  So there we all were…sitting around the table, while my mother assembled marinara with Italian sausage in the kitchen.

Mom: “Megan, you want extra sauce, right?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

Mom: “No sausage, right?”

Me: “No, thank you.”

Mom: “Matthew, sausage?”

Caolinn: “Oh, Uncle Matthew wants hot Italian sausage alright.”

Me: “CAOLINN!”

Caolinn and Matthew: (high-fiving)