Reasons Why I Can Handle Living At Home

Also, I got off rehearsal... I mean... not rehearsal... I mean, shit, this is hard... early and need to wind down before I go to sleep since I work at stupid o clock tomorrow. (Also known as 5:30 am. FIVE THIRTY IN THE MORNING. Disgusting.)

Anyway. Sometimes my family amuses me. And something I used to like to do when I kept paper journals in The Bad Time was record conversations that amused me so that I could read them later and re-amuse myself even if it didn't amuse anyone else. Soooo... I'm going to be selfish and do that now. Whatever. It's my blog.

~*~

Me: (carrying on a conversation with a guy) blahblahblah

Kevin: (popping up beside me) Plan?

Me: What?

Kevin: PLAN?

Me. Oh. No. No plan.

(fastforward to walking out of the restaurant)

Kevin: Just so you know, I will ALWAYS say plan.

Me: Always?

Kevin: Always when you talk to a guy. You'll be in Ontario, talking with men, and your phone will ring and it will be me saying "Plaaaaan?"

Me: Awesome. My own personal stalker.

~*~

Me: (driving the car) Oh lame, I left my sunglasses in my purse! (reaches over and grabs sunglasses out of centre console)

Kevin: You just put on sunglasses.

Me: I don't like these ones as much.

Kevin: So? It's not like anyone is going to see you. You won't meet your true love at a stoplight.

~*~

Me: Mom! Don't eat all of my fries AND be on my computer! You are not me! (takes a sip of my Diet Coke)

Mom: Hrmph. (gets off computer) Bryan, bring me a caffeine-free Diet Coke. Since Erin drank all of mine.

Me: You are not me! You are not me!

~*~

Kevin: Okay, let me break this down. If Myla isn't here, Erin's in charge. If Erin's not here, Nelize is in charge. If Nelize isn't here, Meg is in charge. If Meg's not here, the kids are in charge.

Me: What about you?

Kevin: I'm never in charge. NEVER.

~*~

Me: I'm just saying, at some point everyone has to move on with their life. And I'm starting to think... Dating [insert name here] is not moving on! I mean... would not be moving on. I mean... syntax is hard!

Mom: Maybe dating [insert name here] is a service station on the road to moving on?

Me: Wait. Am I the car or the highway in this metaphor?

~*~

Kevin: I looked through your garbage!

Me: Ew, why would you do that? That's really weird.

Kevin: I ALWAYS look through your GARBAGE!

Me: Um...

Kevin: Oh yeah, these are lines from my play.

~*~

And for good measure, you all should know that I keep getting molested by a chair. That is all.

I work in less than 8 hours. I must get my butt into bed.