Category: random snippets

I was with a friend of mine yesterday and we were discussing — again — Resort Dude’s Kissing Moratorium for Jesus. She can’t quite get past it.

At one point she said, “I just don’t know, Tracer. It’s like sexual anorexia or something.”

I basically fell out of my chair laughing. If you could hear her voice — my friend with her light-as-air Marilyn Monroe voice — saying “sexual anorexia.”

I’m laughing just typing this.

~ Well. You look very Love Boat.

*****

~ He has a conspiracy mustache.

*****

~ You know the man with the Midas Touch? Yeah, that’s not me.

*****

~ Don’t you think that going “k-k-k-k-k-k” to yourself as a kid is a little OCD?
~ No. I think it’s winning.

*****

BANSHEE: Mommy, they talked about idols in Sunday School and the teacher asked us why we shouldn’t have them. I said because idols would make us unhappy with God and she said I NAILED it.

BANSHEE’S MOM: Well, I think you got it, sweetie.

BANSHEE: But, Mommy, do you think I NAILED it?

BANSHEE’S MOM: Yes, honey. I think you nailed it.

(Okay. Pardon the interruption. This is Tee Tee. Uhm, Banshee? Precious performing monkey? Could you please give Tee Tee, your favorite auntie, your Sunday School teacher’s phone number and/or email address? Tee Tee is just wondering why five year olds are even being taught the concept of idols. She just finds it rather …. odd. I mean, shouldn’t you be coloring pictures of Joseph’s many-colored coat and stuff like that? So, yeah. That’d be great, Banshee. Don’t worry. Tee Tee just wants to have, you know, a friendly little chat.)

*****

~ I hate you when you’re driving.
~ No. You hate me when I’m backseat driving.
~ But now you’re driving and you’re telling me how to backseat drive.
~ So I’m front-seat driving?
~ You’re front-seat and backseat driving and I hate you.

My weekend communications — both oral and written — were weird and wild and awesome, frankly. At one point, three of us emailing each other at once, with 100 emails under one subject heading, I literally thought I was going to pass out or crack a rib from the howls of laughter tearing through my body.

A random smattering, no context:

Don’t touch that! It’s a load-bearing glove.

***

I envy the retarded.

***

I’m tired of listening to them pork with impunity.

***

All right. I’m going to kill you now.
Okay.

***

Fine. Just throw me out of the car like an alley mattress!
An alley mattress?
You heard me.

***

It looks like we’re planning a political assassination. Like we’re the Unabomber or something.

***

What is WRONG with me that I’m sad she didn’t comment on my ovulation remark?? I am SO INVESTED in her insanity.

Yeah, really. What, you don’t like me anymore? She hasn’t responded to me at all. I’m strangely insulted that she doesn’t take me seriously as a sexual threat.

I know, I want her to reply. Come on. Knock the kid off the teet and get crackin with the comebacks!

***

She can just unroll one for each, like a long flesh carpet.

***

Because …. well …. I thought you’d know, but … your breasts are very loud.

***

Tingling in my fancy place and that is all I am sayin’.

***

That is WAAAAAAAY more interesting than a pimply greasy D&D virgin tweaker nincompoop.

***

We are now basically reminiscing about how we met.

hahahahaha

Guys? YOU HAVEN’T MET YET.

***

But, on the upside, when your breasts fall off, perhaps you can bury them in the ground and a tree will grow and sprout delicious mammary-shaped fruit with nutritious milk inside.

***

You are trying to get me to say “ovary” because you are part of the same sex cabal.

***

That would be like me saying, “Because the root of the word ‘tree’ comes from the VULGAR Latin, I refuse to call a ‘tree’ a ‘tree’. I will now call it a ‘chipawkoo’.”

***

(Wait. I am still laughing at that last one. It is SO random. Hold please.)

***

“Overt” is not a word.

(Said in complete sincerity.)

***

My breasts are the feast for my son.

***

Seriously, an embarrassment of riches this weekend. I am still laughing about it.