Her: Hey, what kind of bird is that outside the window?
Me: It’s a mourning dove.
Her: I wonder what he’s doing.
Me: He’s the lookout.
Me: All the others are eating right now.
Her: How do you get to be the lookout?
Me: Easy. You only have one arm.
Her: You’re still asleep, aren’t you?
To the person who took the cup of coffee that I’d just set down at a table at my local cafe for the purposes of marking the space, while I went to retrieve my backpack: Apparently you didn’t notice my cup was full of still very hot coffee. I guess you didn’t see it, or bother to—I don’t know, look around maybe?—to see if anyone was, in fact, sitting there?
To whomever it was, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope you are eaten by a shark on your way home.
The two of us are derping on the internet, side by side. I’ve just finished reading this article about Johnny Depp and Amber Heard and Vanessa Paradis.
Her: I hope you never leave me.
Me: Why would you say that?
Her: I don’t know.
Me: [Looking over at her screen] Are you reading DListed?
Me: Are you reading this article?
One of those polls asking men and women would you give up your favorite food or sex? Results were something like 39% of women would give up the sexytimes instead of their favorite food.
Me: Why is that?
Her: Because we just want to put the food in our shoes.