Andy is ignoring me.
But he isn’t responding to my gchat from the bedroom.
Andy LOVES when I play the Am I as Fat as This Person!? game.
Second only to the Swear to Fucking God You’ll Tell Me if I Get as Big as That Guy Over There game.
And the OMG Does This Bra Give Me Back Fat game.
Oh, and the Boys, You Need to Wait Outside Because We are Having a Super Secret Closed Door Meeting with Santa About Next Year’s Presents game.
Except he actually does like that game, because it means we get to do it. With almost all our clothes off. It depends on how many lights are on and how skinny I am feeling that day.
It’s just, some days I need to feel pretty. Andy hates those days.
Me: Name 3 celebrities who are prettier than me.
Andy: Please don’t call me at work about this stuff anymore.
Me: So….there are too many to list?
Andy: There are none to list, now seriously, I have to go fix a problem.
Me: Well, what about my friends. Which of my friends are prettier than me?
Me: If you love me, you will be honest with me. I just want to know who you are going to try to have sex after I die.
Andy: Why are you dying?
Me: Why does anything die, Andy? Nobody knows. It’s like solar eclipses.
Andy: Actually it’s not. Most things die based on some kind of scientific reason. And, I think you misunderstand what a solar eclipse is.
Me: I feel like you are stalling.
Andy: *groan* I really have to fix something here.
Andy: None of them. None of them are prettier than you. In fact, I feel bad for your friends when you are around them, because you are CLEARLY the prettiest.
Me: That was kinda harsh.
Andy: Alright, I gotta go.
Me: You should have married my second prettiest friend, so after they die, you could have sex with me. That’s a no brainer, Andy.
Andy: Why do we have to have sex with eachother’s friends after we die? Why can’t we just be celibate and mourn the loss of each other for a few years.
Me: You live in a fairytale, Andy.
Andy: Let’s talk about it when I get home, I have work I need to do.
Me: I hope I don’t die before then.
Me: Mark. By the way. I would sleep with Mark.
Me: Ok, now go fix the robots, so they don’t malfunction and start feeling human emotion and murder everyone.
Andy: The robots build cars, and they don’t look like people. Do you even know what I do for a living?
Me: Are you saying my job doesn’t matter? Why are you selfish 90% of the time?
Andy: That sounds like fuzzy math.
Me: Don’t use Republican jargon on me.
Andy: Anddddd you’re not making sense.
Me: Your FACE isn’t making sense.
Everybody knows you are allowed to sleep with one of your spouse’s friends after they die.
It’s why we have wills.