S, to K: "Aw, sick dude."
K: "What?!"
S: "You stink. Don't fart in my kitchen."
K: "I didn't"
S: "Dang, then the litter box sure is ripe." (leaves room)
S, entering room: "I have a confession to make. Now that I leave and come back in, I realize it's not your butt or the box. It's the broccoli."
K: "I thought about that, but then I thought to myself, 'Nah, she knows the difference between my butt and our dinner.'"
Someday I hope to maybe blog something meaningful, but I'd be remiss to not document these kinds of "gems."
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1 comment:
MMMMM.....Broccoli. I love broccoli.
If dinner smelled like that then what did my breath smell like?
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