Skip to main content

Good TV Returns. Sarcasm Never Left. (Round 13)

Nadine & I spent a little time watching TV this week. And a little more time talking. Here are the gems. (And here's the rabbit hole, if you're new.)

On hypothetically having a baby this year:
her: Would you start charging me two thirds of the rent?
me: Maybe. Depends how loud it makes my life. You know, you could just wait til our lease is up and get your own place. Have the baby sometime after July. 
her: Tell me when I can get pregnant. I need to know!


On saving sex for marriage (not hypothetically):
her: One of the advantages of waiting for marriage is that you KNOW when your first time will be, so your legs WILL be shaved.
 
At the end of my facebook story -
her: Did you defriend her?
me: No.
her: Oh. (disappointed)
 
On The Situation:
me: He DOES ooze charisma. And probably other things. (pause) Pheromones.
her: STDs.

her: You shouldn't ruin Modern Family with serious conversation.

her: I have a pumpkin pie problem.

her: Is it wrong to eat M&Ms while watching The Biggest Loser?

her: Oh man, if you weren't Beth...I would suspect things. But if really covert sketchiness was going on, you'd be more subtle.

Comments

  1. it makes me SAAAADDDDDDDDD that i can't perpetually be around to hear these gems.

    these are NUGGETS of delciousness without the deathly calories. heck they make me loose calories because i laugh SO much.

    nadine = new weight watchers.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Simone Weil: On "Forms of the Implicit Love of God"

Simone Weil time again! One of the essays in Waiting for God  is entitled "Forms of the Implicit Love of God." Her main argument is that before a soul has "direct contact" with God, there are three types of love that are implicitly  the love of God, though they seem to have a different explicit  object. That is, in loving X, you are really loving Y. (in this case, Y = God). As for the X of the equation, she lists: Love of neighbor  Love of the beauty of the world  Love of religious practices  and a special sidebar to Friendship “Each has the virtue of a sacrament,” she writes. Each of these loves is something to be respected, honoured, and understood both symbolically and concretely. On each page of this essay, I found myself underlining profound, challenging, and thought-provoking words. There's so much to consider that I've gone back several times, mulling it over and wondering how my life would look if I truly believed even half of these thin

I Like to Keep My Issues Drawn

It's Sunday night and I am multi-tasking. Paid some bills, catching up on free musical downloads from the past month, thinking about the mix-tape I need to make and planning my last assignment for writing class. Shortly, I will abandon the laptop to write my first draft by hand. But until then, I am thinking about music. This song played for me earlier this afternoon, as I attempted to nap. I woke up somewhere between 5 and 5:30 this morning, then lay in bed until 8 o'clock flipping sides and thinking about every part of my life that exists. It wasn't stressful, but it wasn't quite restful either...This past month, I have spent a lot of time rebuffing lies and refusing to believe that the inside of my heart and mind can never change. I feel like Florence + The Machine 's song "Shake it Out" captures many of these feelings & thoughts. (addendum: is the line "I like to keep my issues strong or drawn ?" Lyrics sites have it as "stro

Esse - Czeslaw Milosz

I'm on a bit of a poetry binge this week, and Monday afternoon found me lying on the luxurious shag rug of a friend's tiny apartment, re-reading some of my favourite poets (ee cummings, William Carlos Williams, Czeslaw Milosz). It is an adventure to re-open a collection and wonder what will pop out, knowing something you've read before will strike you afresh, or you will be reminded of a particularly moving line that you had somehow forgotten. Like this piece from Milosz, which floors me. Every. damn.* time. The first time I read it, I lay in a park with a friend (this same friend who offered me her rug as my reading burrow) and demanded that I share it with her. I spoke it carefully, and then, into the post-reading silence, I slammed the book shut, and dropped it as loudly as I could onto the grass. "I'm never reading anything again," I declared, "What else is there to say?" Esse I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of métro st