Okay, fine. I'm not really buying that either. But I haven't posted in a week, so this is what you get!
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Chatter X: By the way, you're not getting your weight loss incentive this week.
me: That's okay, I've only lost 50 lbs this week.
Chatter X: Look, there's no way you're going to break me. I'm not going to ever say you're a dick.
me: No, really. I lost my legs in a tragic chocolate factory accident.
Chatter X: hah. Your idea of tragedy involves diet chocolate. Did you eat your own legs?
me: Wouldn't you if they were suddenly covered in chocolate?
Chatter X: Somehow, that seems sexual. Not actually sexual. Just kind of like, there ought to be something sexual about that. And yet...no.
me: Vaguely reminiscent of sexual. Yet not.
Chatter X: That's how I'm going to write wine reviews.
me: Like something that sounds sort of dirty but upon examination just makes no sense.
Chatter X: Well, in all seriousness, if there ever were to be really something between you and me, then it would spontaneously happen when and if we ever met. Thousands would die in the subsequent explosion. implosion?
me: Now I'm onto wine reviews. They should be like "At first this vintage was reminiscent of Welch's grape juice with a splash of turpentine. But by the time I was halfway through the second bottle, I began to appreciate its piquant insouciance."
Chatter X: "Then I groped my cousin."
me: Explosion, not implosion. And you're right. It would be like that scene in Body Heat.
me: That's it, we are starting a wine review website.
Chatter X: I have not seen Body Heat, but I know it involves Kathleen Turner, so, yes.
me: Well, at that point in the movie she and William Hurt are dying for it, but they have resisted. Then he comes over and throws a chair through her sliding glass patio door and bends her over the easy chair.
Chatter X: "I enjoyed this wine. I consumed 3/4 of the bottle while eating a Lean Cuisine. Afterward, my cats seemed really amusing."
Chatter X: Man, that description just made me gasp.
me: I'm already imagining my review of Two Buck Chuck.
Chatter X: Like, totally not expecting it, "Oh, my," gasp. I'll never have adequate sex. Now I'm ruined. For movies and for life.
me: Don't worry, I think we're all capable of over-the-chair sex.
Chatter X: But breaking the sliding glass door first then chair sex?
me: Sure, why not? I mean, provided you have a sliding glass door.
Chatter X: I bet the lighting is hard to get right. There has to be adequate patio lighting.
me: No, because then you'd see him coming.
Chatter X: Plus metal chairs.
me: The sex was in the house, not on the patio furniture.
Chatter X: Um, metal furniture needed to break glass.
me: ohhh.
me: I think a well-constructed wooden chaise would do the job.
Chatter X: OK, I just laughed heartily, yet again.
me: Every conversation I ever have about sex winds up being about shoddily constructed patio furniture.
Chatter X: bahahahhah. IKEA is like your arch nemesis.
me: Do you mind if I post this conversation in my blog with your name missing? We're kind of funny, and I post like once every leap year.
Chatter X: Now I'm all flattered. NO
me: How about with your phone number?
Chatter X: Depends on if any of the men who comment are single and have the capability of hurling things. Not lunch. Chairs.
me: They're largely married dorks.
Chatter X: I know. We're not.
me: No, I'm a single dork.
Chatter X: Erase everything I just wrote after the IKEA comment.
Sorry, Chatter X.
- FIN -
