Space Station

August 31, 2013

Me [reading]: “Men working above.” I find that rather unlikely.
Wife: In the International Space Station!


Hundred Thousand

August 30, 2013

Me: Don’t mess with one hundred thousand dead Jews.
Kick your ass.
Wife: I just said they were quiet.


August 29, 2013

Wife: It’s like someone wrote on my body with Kool-Aid powder.


August 28, 2013

Me [reading]:Sinaloa used car sales.”
Wife: They can name it whatever they want.
Me: Buy directly from the cartel and save!
Wife: I’m not saying it’s a good name.

Beat Up

August 27, 2013

Wife: Could you beat up that old lady and taker her hat?
Me: It would be too small for your head.


August 26, 2013

Wife: We need to stop and change [One-Year-Old’s] diaper, because he’s poopy!
Six-Year-Old: Ew! That’s gross!
Wife: That’s what [One-Year-Old] thinks too. That’s why we’re changing him. I don’t need your commenting on his feces.


August 25, 2013

Nine-Year-Old: Guess which one!

No! You can’t smell!


August 24, 2013

Me: There’s our boy, leaning against the trash can and stuffing his face with American cheese.


August 23, 2013

Me: Alright, so far we’ve got three days in August with [Wife] making fun of [Friend’s] hamburger rave.
Friend’s Wife [laughing]: The Hamburglar was there. Mayor McCheese. Grimace was there.
Friend: That’s a furry party.


August 22, 2013

Wife: Be careful.
Friend: I’ve done this before.
Wife: Really? You’ve been stringing glow sticks in women’s hair? Where? Like at the hamburger rave?