Me: How was your day?
Him: Oh ya know, just rockin' and rollin' and what-not...
Me: You have a thing for John Travolta now? Or just the movie Grease? By the way, that was a horrible impression. You need to put your hips into it a bit more.
Him: What do you think I do all day long when I'm home alone while you're at work.
Me: Sleep. Drag the garbage all over the house. Stare out the living room window. I know you don't eat when we're gone so there isn't much else you can do. What is up with the whole not eating when we're gone?
Him: You're so naive. You don't want me to dive into that.
Me: Let's discuss the Gene Simmons Halloween costume I put you in. We haven't fully discussed your feelings about the whole thing. I have to admit that you weren't looking like your chipper self. In fact, you weren't giving me your best poses that day. It was disappointing to say the least.
Him: You stuck a fucking rubber band on my head that was attached to what only you could call a wig. It was made out yarn and, I'm sorry, but it by NO means resembled Gene Simmons hair.
Me: Wow. Some one's been dying to get that out. You feel better now?
Him: Listen Lady (he calls me Lady when he's peeved) You think all I do is wait for your ass to get home all day by sleeping on the couch and staring out of the window like I'm some pathetic loser who can't stand to be with out? I have talents you don't know about. I have ambitions and dreams.