My brother still thinks it’s strange that you and I honeymooned in a warehouse. It didn’t bother you, did it? I mean, I love that wistful nostalgic feeling I get now when I see a truck full of boxes ride by.
What? What is the thing you want me to look up called? Electra complex?
Imaginary Husband’s Christmas gift to me. I see what he did here.
At my funeral, don’t say you loved me. Just read all my Twitter jokes that everyone should have laughed at when they had the chance.
I got a Canada Dry. To drink and to reminisce about our third date. To recall more, I’ll have to invent and manufacture Canada Penetration.
You’re like George Bailey. Except you don’t offer to lasso the moon for me. You just shake me and shout at me that you don’t want to be married ever to anyone.
I WILL BLAST ELO AS LOUD AS I FEEL LIKE IT DAMMIT! AND I’LL PLAY EVERY SONG BUT THE ONE YOU LIKE!
No, listen to me. You have to tell me if there is a gas leak. I’ve never been able to smell. It’s called Anosmia. I’m serious. Look it up. Bill Pullman has it. Wait, but he got it in college. Fuck that guy. Also, you have to warn me about fire and smell my food. You are not just the love of my life, you are my nose. Now, come on, is this underwear clean or dirty?
What are you doing buying crap like this? An air purifier? Seriously? Look, you can’t just throw away money just because it doesn’t have the Queen on it.
