Friday, October 2, 2009

Words, Words, Words from the Dinner Table

I lean on the table in a food stupor after ingesting a deliciously huge, medium-rare rib-eye steak. George makes a move to tickle me….

Me: Don’t tickle me. I’m too full and will hurl. I enjoyed it too much to lose it.

George: Well, you could always enjoy it a second time, a la Hoover [the dog, who cleans up his own vomit].

Me: You are disgusting.

George: Yes. I’m a dude. We’re halfway between chicks and dogs.

Me: Halfway?

George: Okay, closer to dogs.

Me: Right.

George: Ewww. You women think you’re soooo superior!

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