If I were to record all the conversations Carl and I have and then listen to them, I’d probably be in a deep sleep, like NyQuil-induced sleep, which, right now? sounds really, really good.
There are the few occasions, however, where we find ourselves saying stuff, like when we’re at Home Depot (because Home Depot is where you go to escape the kids and have some quiet time in the plumbing aisle with other bewildered adults) that’s totally not sexually related, but our brains go there anyway and we just giggle and snort. Why? Because we are two immature idiots that come together to form a barely functioning brain.
All this was said on our last trip to the brain-sucking temple that is Home Depot:
- Your wood is heavy.
- Let me hold your rod.
- Should I wait for you to pull out?
- I guess I just had to shove it down in there farther.
- Take it, take it, take it!
- Open up – let me in.
- Uranus (I told you we are morons).
I think a vortex to another dimension just opened up in our closet that will take Carl and me to space and maybe we’ll see Sandra Bullock there in her white space suit flailing around. Or maybe the vortex will bring us to a pizzeria where everyone is eating except us because we have no mouths.