July 20, 2017

Me: Will you stop talking about that?
Thirteen-Year-Old: You brought it up.
Me: No, I didn’t!
Thirteen-Year-Old: Yes, you did.
Me: I asked you what you wanted for dinner. That’s not bringing up dissecting animals.


July 18, 2017

Wife: I suppose you actually put chocolate on that broccoli?
Me: It was surprisingly not bad.


July 17, 2017

Me: Hey, look at those geese. Do they feed them?
Thirteen-Year-Old: No.
Me: Then what do you think they’re eating?
Thirteen-Year-Old: I don’t know. Their own poop, probably.
Me: You can’t subsist on your own poop. That violates the Second Law of Thermodynamics.
Thirteen-Year-Old: They’re geese. They do whatever they want… mystical creatures.


July 13, 2017

Thirteen-Year-Old: That looks like a bag of dog poop from this angle.
Wife: Well, you’re the one sleeping on it!


July 12, 2017

Wife: Don’t look at me like, “What?” You made your grapefruit make a diarrhea noise.


July 9, 2017

Me: Some of those people don’t look like they belong in a caveman restaurant.
Wife: I don’t know what kind of discrimination that is, but it’s stupid.


July 4, 2017

Wife: You are partially to blame for him snorting garlic salt.


June 30, 2017

Wife: I’m going to stab myself in the neck so much.
Thirteen-Year-Old: Please don’t.
Wife: Why, because I would bleed on your mango?


June 29, 2017

Wife: Here’s a bowl of mango and angst.


June 26, 2017

Wife: What?
Me: At first… I wasn’t sure at first what that was. It looks like an inside out grapefruit.