It’s like this every month.

As will become obvious in just a few short words, last night was a UFC pay per view.  On the menu for the evening was chili dip, bruscetta, spinach dip with homemade pita chips and pain.

Kevin is my brother, p.s.  My sister was also there, as well as my mom and dad, but usually when my sister and I banter, there are too many giggles to remember what the punchline was.


During a particularly vicious fight –

Me: I’m going to puke from all this blood. (which was just a joke because blood doesn’t bother me.  if it did, I wouldn’t watch UFC.)

AH: Don’t think of it as blood.  Think of it as strawberry juice.

Me: That’s not helping.  You’re not making the blood better, you’re ruining juice.


Two words: The Mexicutioner.


AH: Why are you wearing a hood?  It’s 22 degrees in here.

Me: No it’s not.  It’s freezing.

AH checks the thermostat.  It’s 22 degrees in here.

Me: Well, it must be broken because it’s freezing in here.

AH: You look ridiculous.

Me: Look who’s talking.  You’re wearing the dog as a Snuggie.

Kevin: You could slice him open and wear him as a Russian hat?  That’d keep you warm.  (which, FYI courtesy of Google, is technically called an Ushanka, and apparently not commonly made from dog, so I didn’t bother with a picture example.)


Kevin gets a call on his cell.

AH: Is that his girlfriend?  Does he have a girlfriend yet?

Me: No, no girlfriend.  Not unless you count girlfriends. *snap snap snap*


AH: Are you sleeping?

Me: No, I only have one eye closed.

AH: Why bother?

Me: So I can fall asleep when ever I want.  I’m halfway there already.


Kevin: What are you writing?  A recipe for strawberry juice?

Me: No.  Nothing. *scribble scribble scribble*

AH: Are you writing what we’re saying?

Me: Dude.  I’m a blogger.  I’m working.


And one that only those in attendance will appreciate:

Bioshock 2 bedtime stories FAIL.


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