Whenever Bryan and I get into a fight we immediately become 3rd graders. I yell "it's your fault you $@!$&?!*#!" And the he yells back "No! It's your &$@!?*# fault!" Okay so very colroful 3rd graders. Like 3rd graders that have been held back a few years and served some time in juvi. Either way no one wins in these childish fights, we are always both at fault.
But the other day I had a real zinger. I said "it's your fault for marrying me." Bryan stopped dead in his tracks, put his paintball gun down and solemnly nodded. He walked back to the room an whispered, " you win. My fault."
It was a small victory, but a victory none the less.
2 comments:
Hah! Just found your blog today, and I'm glad we're not the only ones that say that. Our line is always "You asked for it!" :) Thanks for making me laugh!
OMG, been stalking yr fashion blog for the past 2 weeks and only discovered this one a few minutes ago. But I TOTALLY laugh-snorted out loud at this post. BTW, I'm working at a library so the snort REALLY carried.
Love yr stuff, congratulations, you got a new reader.
-Vanessa
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