The other night, I sent The Boyfriend a text to see if he was off work.
B: I’m actually negotiating a price on a truck right now (not his words)
Me: Show him your boobs. Bet the price will drop.
Me: OR! Throw an old fashioned on the table. Guys help each other out all the time.
B: I was actually thinking cash plus a trade.
Me: Well…it’s risky but it might work.
Then, one evening last week The Boyfriend sent me this random text:
B: You missed Jersey Shore.
For a second, I couldn’t figure out why he felt the need to tell me that. I’ve never even watched a full episode of that show. Then (because my phone is retarded) an earlier text from him came through asking if I wanted to come over to see it.
Me: Sorry, I just got the message about coming over to watch it.
B: I was messing with you. Jersey Shore, really?
Me: Well you are fond of Keeping up with the Kardashians…
B: I’m over that.
Me: Oh, right. Sorry, Khloe and Lamar.
B: That didn’t help, just got old. At least Paris Hilton’s a self proclaimed ho. Those other girls are under the impression they’re good people.
Me: True…So Paris has a show again? Is it your new favorite?
B: I don’t know. I’m over her, too.
Me: Well what are you going to watch? Real Housewives?
Me: Maybe Miley Cyrus will get a reality show now that there’s a vid of her smoking pot on the internet.
B: I was hoping Lindsey Lohan would get one.
Me: I’d watch that…Chick’s a total trainwreck. Too bad Britney didn’t have one when she went off the deep end.
Me: That would’ve been quality entertainment.