Since I have more weird conversations in any given day than any healthy person should have in a year I’m going to start posting these regularly. These are just for fun, they were not serious conversations, and nobody has been injured or de-vaginalized (totally coined this awesome new word) as a result.
Me: You’re forty minutes late for dinner.
F: Yeah, I know. I suck! I’m sorry.
F: Seriously. I am sorry dat you had to await me forty minutes.
Me: Is that why you were late?
Me: Because you had to time travel back to nineteen-century England to bring back an outdated word to use in your lame apology.
F: You’re an asshole.
Me: Tis’ true.
Mother-In-Law: Do you like having F home everyday now that he is working from home?
Me: Yeah. It’s nice. When he’s annoying Ho Scopato a casa di un mio amico*.
Me: Ho Scopato a casa di un mio amico.
Mother-In-Law: [turning to my husband] What?
Me: OH SHIT! NO! NO! NO! I meant SONO SCAPPATA A CASA DI UN MIO AMICO!* SONO SCAPPATA! Damnit!
Mother-In-Law: Are you ever going to learn Italian?
F: It’s more funny this way.
*ho scopato a casa di un mio amico=I fucked at my (male) friend’s house.
*sono scappata a casa di un mio amico=I escaped to my (male) friend’s house
Me: I think I figured out why I’m so nervous that Oliver is going to die.
Me: Yeah, because every dog I’ve ever loved has died.
F: You don’t need to worry about it.
Me: Yeah I know…
F: Because he’s going to die eventually for sure. I mean, EVERYONE DIES. So don’t even tink about it. Just know that everyone around you will die.
Me: Wow. I almost thought you were going to say something consoling.
F: It’s kinda of funny when you tink about it.
Me: Your mental instability?
F: No. Dat you tought I was going to say-a some-a ting consoling.
F: I like kissing you. Your skin is so soft.
Me. Yeah. Yours is, hairy. What would happen if your hair suddenly started to grow inward and it invaded your brain?
F: I don’t-a know.
Me. And you had to hire a brain surgeon to give you a haircut.
F: Let’s not talk anymore, okay?
Me. Okay. Goodnight.
F: I’m going out with my friends for a drink tonight? Okay?
Me: Cool. Have fun. Without me.
F: Obviously you’re always invited.
Me: No, no, I have to work on my book. I have to write an entire chapter about rejection. And you. And rejection.
F: Do you want to come?
Me: I thought you’d never ask, but you know what? I’d rather not. In all seriousness I do have to work on my book.
F: And you made this big ting because?
Me: Guilt is funny?
Me: So you came home really late last night.
Me: Which is fine. As long as you didn’t sleep with anyone.
F: Why would I do that?
Me: You have a penis. But just try to be altruistic.
F: I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you?
Me: No, no, not for ME. I meant for whatever girl. Because, I will cut out her vagina and then send it to you in a box. A box in a box, that’s actually kind of funny. Anyways, logistically, I don’t even know how one would go about removing someone’s vagina so imagine the experimental chopping that would go into my vindictiveness. Seriously, poor girl. That’s someone’s daughter Francesco. That’s someone’s daughter.
F: Ah, that’s why I love you.
Me: You’re sick.
Me: So, I got another email asking how I am able to be married to an Italian because they cheat.
Me: Mhmm, and I started thinking of what would happen if we moved to the US. American girls love an accent, and quiet guys and you basically hate talking and you’re kind of adorable. Women will be dripping from you. But that’s okay because I think I have a solution.
F: Kill everyone?
Me: No! Actually, I think I’ll just start telling everyone that you have an array of STD’s. Like, ALL of the
Sexually transmitted disease (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
F: Dat doesn’t make-a sense because you are married to me.
Me: Right. But I mean, that’s fine. I hate dudes anyways and I don’t really want anyone near “her” anyways. Especially in her condition. I mean, you cannot believe the things going on down there,
what with all those infections and everything.
F: That is disgusting.
Me: Right? How could you do that to me, to her, to us?
F: Please stop talking.
Me: We trusted you.
F: I don’t want to leave the apartment ever again.
Me: And why would you when we can stay inside and exchange virus’?
Me: The guy that plays Bill from True Blood IS BRITISH.
F: Yeah. It’s weird.
Me: And Alexander Skarsgard is Swedish.
English: Alexander Skarsgard at Tribeca Film Festival 2010 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Me: I was just thinking of how cool it would be to be married to a European.
F: [blink, blink, blink]
Me: Oh, wow! Yeah. I’m pretty far gone.