This is what happens when a hyper-sarcastic BS artist marries a nurse. From time to time I will try to share some of our bedroom banter, as it tends to defy all laws of space, time, and common sense.
7:30am, our bed.
Nurse: OMG I slept so bad. I was so hot, I had to get up and turn on the air.
Moron: (looks up to see the fan turning) You mean the fan?
Nurse: Whatever. (We'll cover word selection in a coming post)
Moron: I slept like ass too...late night pizza always means nightmares.
Nurse: What did you dream about?
Moron: Not a dream, a nightmare.
Nurse: About what?
Moron: About me having neuroblastoma.
Nurse: What were your symptoms?
Moron: Um, just one symptom. That the doctor told me I had neuroblastoma.
Nurse: Oh. Ok.
I'm pretty sure we're the sexiest couple I know.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
posthumous pointerTo laugh often and love much; to win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children; to earn the approbation of honest citizens and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to give of one's self; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived - this is to have succeeded. - Emerson