I am still working on the ‘love, honor, obey’ part
UPDATE: I have now figured out how best to love, honor and obey her.
IM has given the biggest boost to the efficiency of our grocery list technology since the Post-It
Related:
FADE IN:
INT. HORRID NOVOTEL WEST, HAMMERSMITH NIGHT.
In a dim, shabby London hotel room whose minibar is devoid of ALCOHOL, a slim, attractive Eastern European WOMAN glances up from a laptop computer to gaze at a flickering television showing RANDOM FILM transfixing MAN, aging, paunchy, gouty.
MAN
Who is who?
WOMAN
That. That guy.
MAN
Um. Val Kilmer?
WOMAN
No it’s not.
MAN
It looks like Val Kilmer.
WOMAN
No, it’s that guy who died.
MAN
Oh, yeah. You’re right. Heath Ledger.
WOMAN
Yeah, it is. That’s so sad. How did he die?
MAN
I don’t think they know yet. Some are saying suicide.
WOMAN
He was so young. Was it the success, do you think? Did his success kill him?
MAN
I don’t know much about it.
WOMAN
I don’t want success to kill you. I don’t want you to be successful.
MAN
Yeah, don’t worry about that, honey.
FADE TO BLACK
Which ought to come standard with home pregnancy tests in the first place
Adam has learned to sing. He writes his own material. Latest hit: “Finger Monkey Moo”. The lyrics run something like this:
FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO! FINGER MONKEY MOO!
until you are 80 years old.
We may have to rethink this whole xylophone-for-Christmas-present idea.
Me: What are you making, honey?
Magda: I wanted to make some pickled pumpkin.
Me: You know, I seem to have heard that Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pumpkin.
Magda: Did he?
Me: Yes.
Magda: Jerk.
Extreme cross-reference: Bo Peep
