Cuddles

It’s late at night and we’re snuggling in bed.

Me: I love you. I’m so glad you’re my best friend.

Mr. J: You’re my best friend too. You and Tiny Rick. Except for when Rick sneezes in my whiskey. Which happens more than it should.

(Explanation: Tiny Rick has feline immunodeficiency virus so he coughs and sneezes a lot. In spite of this he’s an amazingly friendly and loving cat. But he also loves torturing Mr. J by sneezing in his alcohol.)

Cat=Food

Disclaimer: Mr. J loves my cats. But he came into my life many years after they did. They were here first. They don’t understand why he’s here now. They hate him. He does not understand why they hate him, or rather he does but he doesn’t care. Also, we are both vulgar people and swear at our pets just as much as they swear at us in cat language. No cat feelings or human feelings were harmed.

We were watching Master Chef.

Me: Describe the spirit of Tiny Rick if he were food.

Mr. J: A really good stew that you crack a raw egg all over at the last minute.

Me: What?

Mr. J: Because he sneezes all over everything.

Me: Okay, what about Leela?

Mr. J: Tiramisu but you dumped the entire jar of cinnamon over it.

Me: Why?

Mr. J: Because the core is good but if you scrape away the top it’s just overwhelming and slightly annoying.

Me: Okay, Titian?

Mr. J: Chocolate pudding. Because she’s a fat piece of shit and slightly runny.

Note: Titain weighs 18.5 lbs. which is big for an American shorthair.

Directions

For some reason we were talking about directions first thing in the morning, literal directions and written instructions.

Me: wow thanks for making sure the left and right side of my brain are working.

Mr. J.: Yes because that’s how you know to take a left instead of two rights.

Me: Two rights EQUAL a left so fuck off!

Mr. J.: No they don’t…(dramatic pause)…It’s three rights make a left.

Me: fuck off

Mr. J: wow you really learned a lot from those gen ed classes in college

When you try to talk to your spouse about writing

Me: Can I ask you a question?

Mr. J: …Yeah…

Me: Do you like my writing?

Mr. J: Sure.

Me: You sure?

Mr. J: Yeah.

Me: You promise.

Mr. J: I’m a little confused by your formatting.

Me: (here we go) Explain.

Mr. J: You know when you have really long lines. And then a short line. And then another short line. And then a really long line?

Me: (laughs)

Mr. J: (laughs)

Me: (zero composure) You mean my paragraphs?

Mr. J: No (defensive)…unless that’s what they are…

Me: (falls over)

Half Cat, Half Xenomorph

Mr. J: I remember what Titian reminds me of! She’s like a fluffy version of that half human, half xenomorph the queen gave live birth to in the fourth movie. You know, the one that got sucked out the crack in the window!

Me: What?! She looks nothing like that! It doesn’t even have fur!

Mr. J: I said a fluffy version. I mean, look at her face.

Me: That is terrible! Do not say that!

Mr. J: And they are both mostly toothless…

Me: Shut the fuck up!