so the jew is at her conference. i'm on the couch. we're texting. the ruskie is in the dining room (duh):
ruskie: "are you texting her?"
me: "yeah, she texted me."
ruskie: "DON'T ENABLE HER!"
me: "but we're having a conversation!"
ruskie: "i hate to see what it's going to be like when she goes to Israel...the text messaging fees are really high...the bills going to be like $800"
me: "you do realize that we exchange at least 100-200 texts a day with each other, right? that's in addition to the solid 7 hours of IMing we do while she's at work."
ruskie: "you guys are bizaare...why don't you talk on the phone?"
me: "she says she'll be done in 10 minutes and then she'll call."
15 minutes of texting goes by and the jew calls. 26 minutes later and she hangs up. 1 minute later she texts me again.
the ruskie: "are you texting her again?"
me: "yeah, we're having a conversation!"
ruskie: "but...you guys are bizarre...you're way closer than any couple i know."
me: "but we're having a conversation!"
ruskie: "you were just on the phone! you guys need an intervention."
me: "but, we spent the first 10 minutes on the phone doing the crossword puzzle."
ruskie: "OMG ARE YOU GUYS LIKE 95 YEARS OLD? you're like this 95 year old couple at a nursing home doing crossword puzzles that can't be separated. you even have the therapy dog!"
me: :::texting::: "i really wish i could get a picture of that face you're giving me and send it to her."
ruskie (continuing with the face): "are you texting this to her? you guys need an intervention!"
me: "she's asking if we can go on the show. you know, intervention."
ruskie (walking out of the room): "please...you need to go... you need to be intervened. I'M PACKING!"
me: "i'm so blogging this!"
i mean, no, we're not crack/meth/coke heads, but it'd be awesome to go on that show. though they'd probably want to separate us for treatment, and as we already agreed upon, there's no way we can be incommunicado for more than a few hours (unless we're sleeping). sigh, maybe we do need an intervention.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
i need to add to this, you neglect to add that you were even texting her while we were playing catch. thank god she joined the team, that would've been hard to explain it to the medics. "what happend to the first baseman?" "well, she was all ready and alert and then she got a text and the batter hit a line drive right at her and since she was sooooo enthralled in her texting conversation, the ball smacked her in the head and knocked her out allowing the winning run to come in. It really is an unfortunate tale."
you realize we could totally text from 1st base to 2nd, right? WE ARE NOT ABOVE THIS!
but now we don't have to worry about the texting distracting me, only lights and sirens of passing cop cars.
i was once described by my ex (and fellow teammate) that i'm like the little kid on the tee-ball team that gets bored and unfocused and spends most of the game kicking and then cleaning dirt off the base. i do hope some things have changed.
Post a Comment