True Life: Nashville Edition

It is 9 pm on a Tuesday night. D$ and I are perusing old John Prine videos. You know, like you do.

MWK: Wait, that's what Steve Goodman looks like? He looks like such a goober!

D$: What you are looking at -that right there - is exactly what it is like to grow up in Nashville. It is an endless supply of people who look like goobers who are incredible fucking musicians.

So. Now you know.

Convos at Our House: Snow Day edition

MWK: So is it still actively snowing?

D$: What? What would passively snowing look like?

MWK (sighing): What I want to know is: is there snow falling from the sky?

D$: I don't know where else snow would fall from.

pause

MWK (growling): I'm gonna make snow fall from somewhere else.

D$: How?

MWK: Violently.

Conversations at our house, Shame Edition

I come home horrified and quickly strip off my work pants. 


Me (to D$): I need you to do something gross.

D$: Okay...what?

Me (hurriedly shoving the crotch of my work pants into D$'s face):  Smell these and tell me what you think they smell like.


D$, without flinching, puts his face into the crotch of the outstretched pants. 


D$: Oh, no...

MWK:  RIGHT? But...that is human pee, or cat pee??!

Conversations at our house, Springtime edition

I'm all about Beautimuse this week (this is her header). I hope Diana Murphy isn't mad. 

Yes, D$ and I have had a tough few weeks, but there have also been times when things felt normal. Lest you think our home is a sad-sack factory, I give you this (from the day after a particularly difficult conversation):

MWK: The cherry blossoms on X street are gorgeous today! Attaches photo with new fancy smart phone. 

D$: You are my cherry blossom on X street. 

MWK: Um...thanks?

D$: You are welcome my little tulip.

MWK: Now I am just confused about my flower identity.

D$: Like the stargazer lily that blossoms in the sun, you seem to be having an existential crisis. 

D$: Do not despair. I shall love you floral time. 

Groan. 

Conversations at our house, Sister edition

When D$ was on his epic post-PhD cross-country trip he stopped for a few nights in LA and stayed with my sister. Apparently one of the nights they were out bar-hopping when she made some sad-sack comment about how she is going to be an old maid forever, bla bla bla. D$ told her to shut the f*ck up and stop being so ridiculous. About a week after he got back they had the following text message conversation.

Big Sis: I know you think I'm going to die an old maid, but I just wanted to let you know that I have three* in rotation right now.

D$: I believe it was you who thought you'd die an old maid. I am just worried that you will die of syphilis before you get that chance.

Big Sis: That's a fair point.

*Three men. Men love my sister and my sister loves men. 
**Dolly is far too classy to be an old maid or to EVER have an STD. She is one class act. This photo, however, is from one of the best movies of all time, which happens to be about Burt Reynolds and some whores.None of those whores had syphilis either because they were also classy ladies.  

Watching football

D$: What are you doing, honey?

MWK: Commenting on people's blogs.

D$: Would you like to comment on my blog?

MWK: You don't have a -

D$ (hurls): BBLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGGGGGGG

(pause)

MWK: That was a very nice blog.

Judgements

D$ and I are having a housewarming party next weekend, and today we are cleaning the carpets (an exciting life, I know).

We were discussing whether or not we wanted to move the bookshelves* in order to clean and had the following conversation:

MWK: Do you want to take the Star Trek Encyclopedia off of the main bookshelf for when we have people over?

D$: No, I'm totally comfortable with it being there. If people are going to judge...let them judge me for being awesome.



*We have three bookshelves in our living room and still need one more.