she cleans my third eye with two simple kisses everyday. it's a sanity keeping ritual we have. she feels connected to me, even though i'm gone more than i'm home, and i know that she still loves me.
i have something similar. he leaves his socks on the floor, and i pick them up. they smell of buttered popcorn and mean love.
that might not be the same thing.
i said similar. our daily crazy making ritual! he makes a mess of the house. i clean it up. he watches television. i cook dinner. he embarrasses me in front of my friends, and i apologize and plan great dinner parties to give him just one more chance to fuck them up.
you need a new boyfriend.
husband. this is massachusetts. we're allowed to get married here.
oh. right. did i get that invitation?
there wasn't an invitation. it's apparently bourgeois, like keeping a job for more than 6 months. we just marched our sweet, drunk selves down to the court house and got ourselves hitched. now we get to live in domestic bliss. you and your ladyfriend should do it while you're here! new york recognizes them, you know.
yeeees. i know. i don't think we're there yet. i'm not sure i even want the whole marriage thing. it's so breeder.
oh that reminds me. have you ever thought about being surrogate?
no.
well, we were wondering -
no. i mean. yes, i've thought about it. no, i don't want to do it.
you'd be perfect. we look similar. you could be the wicked cool aunt in NYC.
yeah, no. not interested in renting out the uterus. sorry.
but you're not using it! loan it out to someone that needs it.
my feminist is flaring up.
why?
she's about to explode.
okay. okay. calm her down. "no" it is. but if you change your mind.
no.
okay. jesus. [long, awkward pause] how much longer before they start the show?
I've been asked by a couple of friends to one day be their surrogate. ACK!
i have something similar. he leaves his socks on the floor, and i pick them up. they smell of buttered popcorn and mean love.
that might not be the same thing.
i said similar. our daily crazy making ritual! he makes a mess of the house. i clean it up. he watches television. i cook dinner. he embarrasses me in front of my friends, and i apologize and plan great dinner parties to give him just one more chance to fuck them up.
you need a new boyfriend.
husband. this is massachusetts. we're allowed to get married here.
oh. right. did i get that invitation?
there wasn't an invitation. it's apparently bourgeois, like keeping a job for more than 6 months. we just marched our sweet, drunk selves down to the court house and got ourselves hitched. now we get to live in domestic bliss. you and your ladyfriend should do it while you're here! new york recognizes them, you know.
yeeees. i know. i don't think we're there yet. i'm not sure i even want the whole marriage thing. it's so breeder.
oh that reminds me. have you ever thought about being surrogate?
no.
well, we were wondering -
no. i mean. yes, i've thought about it. no, i don't want to do it.
you'd be perfect. we look similar. you could be the wicked cool aunt in NYC.
yeah, no. not interested in renting out the uterus. sorry.
but you're not using it! loan it out to someone that needs it.
my feminist is flaring up.
why?
she's about to explode.
okay. okay. calm her down. "no" it is. but if you change your mind.
no.
okay. jesus. [long, awkward pause] how much longer before they start the show?
I've been asked by a couple of friends to one day be their surrogate. ACK!
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