shoesonwrong |
Annie. Married to Ryan, hates assembling IKEA furniture, reads voraciously. Snobby television junkie. Mathematician. Clumsy, funny, and kind. flickr | twitter | facebook last.fm | librarything | goodreads email: shoesonwrong (at) gmail (dot) com |
Me: I love Left 4 Dead 2, but I kind of blow at shooters. Plus, I didn’t get it until it had already been out for three days. That means that people have already memorized all the maps, learned how to be total douche bags by exploiting flaws in the system, and will beat my ass every single time. I think I’ll just play offline co-op with you.
Ryan: It’s not about winning, Annie.
Me: Do you know me, like, at all?
Ryan: Well, you could just wait until the Christmas, when tweens and teens everywhere will be opening the game with joy and inexperience in their hearts. You might win a few then.
Me: I do like beating kids.
Ryan: That’s not what your letter from the Department of Human Services says.
Me: How did single song repeat AND shuffle get turned on in iTunes? I have listened to “Amy Hit the Atmosphere” by Counting Crows seven times.
Ryan: Seven? Didn’t you notice?
Me: I think it hypnotized me. I’m not afraid of sharks anymore, but I kind of want to wash away this sunny day right down to the gutter.
Ryan: Boo. I am booing you.
EVERY DAMN MORNING THE DAMN WINDOW IS OPEN, DAMMIT.
I think Ryan might be a face peeling demon. But he’s cute, so I guess he can stay.
[Woman on Ally McBeal dies.]
Me: STAKE HER BEFORE SHE COMES BACK WRONG!
Ryan: Too much Buffy. And Angel. And True Blood. You freak.
Ryan: I farted in the canned goods aisle, so I turned up the music to cover it.
Me: In your headphones?
Ryan: Yes.
Me: Did you turn up the music in your headphones to cover the smell or the noise?
Ryan: Both.
Me: Okay.
Me: Why is there a teabag on top of an apple core sitting on the windowsill?
Ryan: I feel like your jokes are getting more obscure.
Me: Two graham crackers. Put marshmallow fluff on one and Nutella on the other. Smoosh them together.
Ryan: It’s like S’more’s hot sister!
Ryan: You can’t Tumbl that.
Me: Yes I can. The contract clearly states that you must preface your stupid and/or funny thing with, “Off the record,” if you don’t want it to be Tumbl’d.
Ryan: I wish I hadn’t signed that contract.
Me: You didn’t have to.
Ryan: ANNIE, you were offering me sex in exchange for my signature.
Me: I should run for office.
[bird next door makes awful bird noise]
Me: Shut up!
[awful bird nosie]
Me: Shut up!
[awful bird noise]
Me: Shut up!
Ryan: Wow, that bird is training you really well.
Me: SHUT UP.
[We do that douchey fist bump thing, Ryan lets out an ENORMOUS fart.]
Ryan: That was your fault.
Ryan, texting me regarding his espresso.
