(My boyfriend and I are cuddling in the morning after a night out. He is extremely hung-over.)
Boyfriend: “Come here.”
Me: “I’m already here, silly.”
Boyfriend: “I meant turn around!”
(I turn around, at which point he snuggles himself into my boobs.)
Me: “Can you breathe in there? If you suffocate it isn’t my fault.”
Boyfriend: “This hangover is going to kill me anyway, at least this way I enjoy my death!”
Boyfriend: “I want to marry your boobs.”
Me: “You can’t just marry my boobs! You have to marry me!”
Boyfriend: *sombre tone* “Do you take these breasts to be yours: to fondle and to suckle, in firmness and in sagginess, in wetness and dryness, so long as you can tolerate the woman to whom they are attached?” *happy tone* “I do!”
Me: *defeated* “You may now motorboat the boobies.”
(My fiancé is very forgetful. I have just lent him my phone to browse the web.)
Fiancé: “What’s your phone’s PIN code?”
Me: “2606.”
Fiancé: *entering the code* “Why’d you choose that?”
Me: “Because that’s my birthday.”
Fiancé: “Oh. Well, you should let me use your phone more often. That way, I’ll remember your birthday.”
(My cousin is due to have a baby girl in a few months. She has picked out a name that is very weird and one no one else has ever heard of. She’s over at my house where my sister and I are trying to talk her out of it.)
Me: “What’s wrong with Diana, or Rachel, or Elizabeth?”
Cousin: “Oh, they’re so overused! The name I picked will stand out so well!”
Sister: “Think about your daughter’s future, woman!”
(We don’t convince her by the time she leaves. As soon as she’s gone, my sister and I try to figure out what to do.)
Sister: “That kid’s going to get beaten up on the playground with a name like that! What do we do?”
Me: “Simple. We pick a cool nickname. We introduce her by that nickname to everyone we meet. We’ll use it so often that she’ll forget her real name!”
Sister: “Great. She’ll have a weird name, and an identity crisis.”
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(My oldest brother is what some would call ‘classically’ autistic, and goes through phases of saying or doing odd things. When we were children he took to saying ‘yessir’ instead of ‘yes’. For some reason this annoys me, and I attempt to correct him.)
Me: “Now, do you say yes or yessir?”
Brother: “Yessir.”
(This goes on for a couple of minutes. I give up.)
Me: “You’re just going to keep saying yessir your entire life aren’t you?”
Brother: *suddenly grinning* “YEAH!” *runs out of the room giggling*
