Conversation With Emily #125
Emily and I went to the Twins game Wednesday night. The Twins stunk up the joint so we had some quality time together, along with 40,000+ other disappointed Twins fans. Being bored, Emily thought she'd be all wife-life and cozy up next to me.
Emily (with her hand on my bicep) Hey, don't you usually flex when I touch your arm? (Editor's Note: When I do this, I flex with irony)
Me I am.
Emily No, I mean really flex.
Me I am.
Emily Are you sure?
Oh snap.
Nasty Nate took this picture of me after I ordered a salad in a bar and grill last week. In my defense, I had a wild game burger the night before and wanted to take a breather from red meat.
2 comments:
You have all the impressive upper body strength of a long-distance runner.
I would know. Byron regularly has me carry the groceries in from the car as he sits weeping on the front seat of the mini-van, moaning, "Too heavy. Just too heavy."
But I gott say, he's not such a wuss that he ever passes up red meat.
Jocelyn, Byron's relentless for raw red meat compared to my more varied palate is the difference between you rugged northwoods typed (translation: backwater hayseeds), and we sophisticated erudite cityfolk (translation: pansie liberal elite).
Speaking of rugged northwoods types, is either one of you running the walker marathon?
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