Renaissance’s Worst

December 31, 2009

Brother-in-Law: Why does everyone want to listen to the Renaissance’s Worst Christmas Carol CD again?!

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Breath

December 30, 2009

Me [quoting The Hobbit]: “My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!”
Brother-in-Law: Dude, tic-tac.

Medications

December 29, 2009

Wife: Please, don’t draw pictures of medications and leave them all lying around the hotel room! Please!

Wearther Controlled by Bears

December 28, 2009

Two-Year-Old: Snow bear, snow bear, snow bear.
Wife: Is Snow Bear like Thunder Bear?
Two-Year-Old: Snow bear.
Five-Year-Old: They’re both weather bears.
Two-Year-Old: Thunder Bear, Thunder Bear.
Wife: Is all the weather controlled by bears?
Two-Year-Old: Thunder Bear, Thunder Bear.

Deliciousness Fat

December 27, 2009

Wife: You want to stop and get Krispy Kreme?
Me: Not particularly. Why would we want to?
Wife: They’re delicious.
Me: We just ate, and they’re loaded with—What kind of fat are they fried in?
Wife: Deliciousness fat. They melt down all the deliciousness and heat it up and fry them in it.

Macaroni

December 26, 2009

Five-Year-Old: Sometimes I turn my macaroni into ribs.
Me: OK….
Five-Year-Old: But it’s not very often.

Wish

December 25, 2009

Five-Year-Old: Help! Help me!
Two-Year-Old: OK.
Five-Year-Old: No, don’t touch me with your slimy hands! Just wish. Say, “I wish my sister could get free.”
Two-Year-Old: Wish OK.

Insufferable

December 24, 2009

Wife: Your brother is on Facebook. Is there anything you want to say to him?
Me: Yes, tell him I’ve figured out what it is that makes Frank Herbert’s writing so insufferable.
Wife: No.
Me: You asked, “Is there anything you want to say to him?”
Wife: I’m not telling him that. You can tell him yourself.

Bath Bombs

December 23, 2009

Wife: One of them broke.
Me: Were they in your bag?
Wife: Where else would I have put them? In your underwear?
Me: My sweat might trigger them.
Wife: Thanks. That is one of the more disturbing images you’ve given me.
Me: Fizzy pants.
Wife: Fulminating crotch.

Gaping

December 22, 2009

Wife: I need you to write this conversation down. I need you to write down that you had two huge gaping holes in your memory. I need you to write this down so the next time you claim I didn’t remember something, I can stick it in your face.