I write down snippets of conversation I have with my husband that I think are particularly bizarre, for future reference and my own amusement. I used to believe that every married couple has conversations like this, but after collecting a number of them, I’m beginning to suspect that neither of us is terribly normal. Also, we make an inordinate number of fart jokes. Observe:
(as he is making bizarre laughing/gurgling noises…)
Me: What are you doing?
Him: This is how you would sound with my balls in your mouth.
Me: Like the Cowardly Lion?
Him: Yeah, ha ha. Hey, how come there isn’t ‘Wizard of Oz’ porn?
Side note: Do NOT Google “Wizard of Oz porn.” You have been warned.
(as he is sucking a finger, preparing to give me a “wet willy”…)
Me: That finger better be going up your own ass.
Him: (thinks for a moment, then starts sucking two fingers)
(as I am working…)
Me: Honey, I want you to have a look at this and see if you have any ideas.
Him: Is it gay porn?
Him: Then I’ve got nothing.
Him: Maybe we should buy you Rogaine.
Me: I’m not going bald.
Him: I know, I just like to fuck with you.
(while shooting foam-rubber discs at the cat…)
Him: I’m going to modify this to shoot metal washers instead.
Him: Instead of getting a dog, we should just have kids and train them to fetch stuff. They could eat dog food too.
Me: That seems complicated. Why not just get a dog?
Him: Our apartment complex doesn’t allow dogs, but they allow kids.
(while pinning me down and poking at me with his fingers…)
Him: You’re my prisoner! Try to escape!
Me: Stop it, you’re poking me in the kidneys.
Him: I know! Wheee!
Him: Let’s take a nap.
Me: A “nap?” (exaggerated winking)
Him: No! A REAL nap! I swear to God woman, all you ever want me for is my body.
(as I’m trying to get friendly…)
Him: Stop coming on to me. I’m tired and I’m an old man.
Me: I’m older than you.
Him: I know, you’re like fucking my grandma.
I am one year and two weeks older. Not exactly a cougar.
(as I’ve accidentally passed gas under the covers, he promptly dutch-ovens me…)
Me: It’s not funny if it’s your OWN farts!
Him: It is for me!
(at an all-you-can-eat buffet, where we’d both saved room at the end for another bite of something we liked. I was having broccoli soup.)
Me: Are you going to have something else?
Him: Pizza and apple pie. Witness the fury!
I thought at the time that he’d decided to have a slice of each. No. He’d chosen to take a slice of cheese pizza, top it with a slice of apple pie, and then coat the entire thing in hot fudge and nuts. Witness the fury, indeed.
(as we’re snuggled up in bed…)
Him: You’re especially hot tonight.
Me: Is it like sleeping with a space heater?
Him: You’re far more attractive than a space heater.
Him: And just as easy to set on fire!
(he’s talking in his sleep…)
Him: We never get to order pizza again!
Me: Why not?
Him: (ominously) Because we ordered them ALL last night!
Me: What? What are you talking about?
Him: They’re all gone.
Me: Are you asleep?
Him: (indignantly) NO!
Him: I’m growing a beard.
Me: You promised me no more beards until you’re old and weird!
Him: (silence for a second…) Where do you think I could buy a Jesus costume?
Me: (thinking this is an unrelated discussion) I dunno…the costume shop? Or you could probably make your own.
Him: Because you can’t deny me a beard if I’m JESUS!
(the remote control for the tv in our room does not work, except for the volume buttons)
Him: So, you have pretty strong muscles in your vagina, right?
Me: Ummmm….I guess so? Why do you ask?
Him: If we stuck the remote in there, do you think you could turn the volume up and down?
Him: That’s why the remote doesn’t work in the first place, isn’t it.
Me: You caught me.
(drunk and carrying home a box of leftovers)
Him: I’m tired of carrying this stupid burrito. (carefully hides it in the bushes, continues walking.)
Me: I dreamt last night that you broke the coffee grinder on purpose and I was all pissed off at you.
Him: That’s funny, I actually thought about purposely breaking the coffee grinder this morning!
(after torturing me for several minutes)
Me: You only wanted to get married so you had someone around to give shit to all the time!
Him: That’s not true. Giving you shit all the time is just a perk.
(in bed, almost asleep, I hear bizarre slapping noises…NOT, mind you, the telltale sounds of entertaining oneself…)
Me: What are you doing?
Him: Playing with my wiener!
Me: Yes, I can hear it flapping about.
Him: (in a spooky voice) The sound you are hearing is imperial wisdom at work!
Him: Ha ha! *rips a fart*
(as we are riding in the car)
Him: Do you smell that?
Me: Yeah, sorry, that was me.
Him: Look at the mountains!
Me: Uh, what?
Him: I need you to remind me of something I have to do this weekend.
Me: Okay, what?
Him: Make a video of myself seductively eating fruit.
Him: Yeah, you should be in it.
Me: Do I have to seductively eat fruit?
Him: Of course not, your job is to hold the cat and look creepy.
Him: We have to buy a series of fake skulls.
Him: So I can make them wear wigs!
Me: So, according to this plan, we’d have to buy a series of wigs, too.
Him: I guess so.
Me: How about no?
Him: But there’s nothing cooler than skulls in wigs!
Him: You never let me have any fun!
We now have two fake skulls, one of which wears an afro wig in our living room. The other one peers out the back window of our car.
(snuggling up to him)
Me: Kiss me!
Him: Kiss me! Hug me! Stop hitting me! I swear, you’re always wanting something!
Him: So, I’ve got a new pet name for you.
Me: Aww, that’s sweet. What is it?
Him: Bruce the Tumor!