"Fuck you."
Response: Don't give me that attitude.
"Fuck off."
Response: I'll go out into the hallway.
"Fuck yourself."
Response: Dresser, ok.
"Is there junk in the trunk?"
Response: Isn't the bedroom right here?
"Take off your clothes."
Response: Ok, let's leave.
"Masturbate."
Response: By the bed, ok.
"You are my bitch."
Response: Why are you apologizing?
"You are a dirty bitch."
Response: *shoots mirror.
"Ass?"
Response: Hah, ok.
"This game sucks."
Response: Huh?

Aaron: "Do you know whose voice this is?"
Me: "No, who?"
Aaron: "The blonde girl's, from She-Spies."

Yeah, you watch it too.

This entry brought to you courtesy of Lifeline, a PlayStation2 game in which you operate the controls by speaking into your headphone and the character supposedly responds appropriately. It doesn't quite work that way. But it's amusing nonetheless. This is such a sadistic control freak's game. You yell at this woman and, ideally, she does what you tell her to do. Actually, it's really sexist, too. Why can't you be telling a man what to do?

I woke up this morning after a really strange dreaming involving buying Winchell's Donuts (the entire shop, not just the donuts), being observed while tanning in the nude, and tackling people. So...yeah. I woke up and got tender with the boyfriend and then our neighbor came up with her girlfriend's dog. Soon after, the allergen reactors that have been dormant for a few months now threw a party in celebration of spring. The snot was a-drippin', the nose was a-sneezin, the eyes were a-waterin, and I started talking like a three-year-old with a lisp. Finally, I found my organic allergy pills, which make everything taste like mucus but halt the sneezing, and got on with my day.

After work, I made Aaron teach me how to make fajitas. Have I mentioned that I lack the part of the brain that holds the instincts for cooking? I am the sort that burns rice, that somehow makes macaroni and cheese taste like moldy garlic. He walked me through it, from the thawing of the chicken to the heating of the tortillas, and it turned out quite nicely. I am v. proud.

In other news:

"Labia."
Response: Do what with what?

one year ago today: "it took all my strength to fall in love with him, i have nothing left to kick him out completely."

two years ago today: "but you know it's going to be a shitty day when you have to experience it twice." and "am i a freak because i love paying bills?" and "i'll do it tomorrow. ...is my motto of the week." and "why are strawberry blowpops so elusive?"

three years ago today: nothin.