Hubert

September 29, 2009 § Leave a comment

On spending our 3 month celebration in NYC: 

Jenny: Erm, please don’t abandon me in NYC. Because I really will get a male dog. (I tend to make threats that if he ever leaves me, I’ll promptly replace him with a puppy.)
Wayne: [Says something sweet and reassuring because he’s apparently too used to my outrageous outbursts]
Jenny: And I will take him to a nice restaurant and try to eat with him.
Wayne: [Attempts to say something sweet and reassuring but is interrupted by…]
Jenny: So let’s just save ourselves the embarrassment because you and I both know that I will make a scene to eat with the dog. And I’ll name him Hubert. And the dog will not like you for ditching me and causing me to take out my demented sadness on him by giving him an ugly name.
Wayne: HAHA [ = what did I get myself into?]

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Meet the Parents

September 23, 2009 § Leave a comment

Actually, Wayne only met my mom. But my parents have been married for so long and talk to each other so much that meeting one is essentially meeting both– I am glad that Wayne met the more…relaxed half of my parents; let’s face it, most of my neuroticism comes from my dad. I know that the minute my mom got home, she called my dad and told him all about Wayne. The men in my little nuclear family do not talk very much, if at all. The women in the family panic at all that empty airspace, completely void of words and noises, and move very quickly to compensate. My dad is succinct. My mom, sweet, calm, soft-spoken to give some illusion of being quiet, is garrulous. My mom talks so much and tells him so much extraneous information that he’s left wondering why he didn’t stop her from drinking the green tea that is keeping her up at night since sleep is my dad’s only champion for silence–  yes, she is that susceptible to caffeine.

So, anyways, today Wayne met my mom. And he was nervous, which is entirely understandable but also kind of funny considering one certain factor:

Me: I wasn’t sure why you were so worried. With me as a daughter, you have to have a good sense of humor. And a lot of patience.
W [with a sentiment shared by all my closest friends]: I think moreso patience. :p
Me: I was going to argue, but, yeah, you’re right. Hahahaha

And, of course, my mom liked him. A lot.

Keep Fishin’

September 1, 2009 § Leave a comment

On dating the wrong guy; is it us or them?:
M: Yes, I can hook them, but, once I do, I let them go, even if i have to rip them off.
Jenny: Hmm. How come you yank them off the hook?
M: Because after living a miserable couple of minutes in the stale water of my bucket, I’d have to kill it, skin it, bone it, bread it, and then deep fry it. And I don’t even like fish… the smell…But I like the moment when I realize something’s on my line.
Jenny: HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA…Sorry.
M: It’s ok. It’s a very funny and inappropriate metaphor.
Jenny: That made me a little hungry. You haven’t met a guy who actually is at your standards so I personally think it’s great they become fish and chips with malt vinegar.

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