The Man Does Know His Fusion

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YOU ARE NOT THE FATHER!!!

Caolinn: “I love Neil deGrasse Tyson. If I could choose anyone to be my father…it would totally be Neil deGrasse Tyson.”

Me: (murmuring) “If I could choose anyone to be your father, I’d pick Neil deGrasse Tyson, too.”

Caolinn: “Ummm, you COULD HAVE chosen anyone…and we know how THAT turned out.”

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.

And This Is Why Women Resort To Cat-Ownership

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Linney: Dude.  Are you ready for me to be online dating?  This gem arrived this morning.

Linney Date

Me: W. T. Actual. Fuck.

Linney: Hefty.  It’s got…heft.

Me: Better than ‘girthy’?

Linney: Yes. Or ‘pencil thin’.

Me: ‘Slim-dicked wrestler seeks soul mate.’

Politics…Bringing People Together Since…Never

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(Don’t even ask what started this conversation…our texts have a narrative thread that falls somewhere between mescaline overdose and fever-dream.)

Ryan: How would you like a Trump-Cruz ticket.?

Me: I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of me dying.

Ryan: That’s something you could put on Pay-Per-View.

(A second later…)

Ryan: To be clear…Trump-Cruz, not your dying.

Me: Thanks for clarifying, sweetie.  Wait, are you saying my death isn’t good enough for Pay-Per-View?

Ryan: Yeah…I don’t think I can win here, so I’m just going to tell you you’re pretty and hope for the best.

 

Your Body And You…A Tale Of Treachery.

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(If you haven’t watched Romancing the Stone, this entire conversation will make no sense, and I demand you rent it immediately.  Whoever gets the royalties for that…I don’t expect payment, but a high-five would be nice.)

Ryan: You’re coming over tomorrow night?

Me: As long as you understand that I MIGHT be a germ risk, and that I sound like Kathleen Turner right now.

Ryan: Joan Wilder!  THE Joan Wilder!  I read all your books!

Me: This is going to be a thing, isn’t it?

Ryan: Yes, yes, it is.