Please be delighted to follow a conversation I had with my friend JT this evening (Note: below is the exact conversation that occurred - no response was even slightly altered, except for his name which will just remain J):
____________________
Me: Would you rather live in a house of 100 cats for a month or poop your pants at work?
J: Poop my pants at work, I think I could keep my cool until I got myself cleaned up, reputation intact...the cats I couldn't handle.
Me: What if it was explosive di-di?
J: Like a soak-through-the-pants episode? Bring on the cats
Me: Not completely soak-through-the-pants, but pretty wet
J: Basically if I could get out the door without anybody finding out, then the poop. If I end up covered in my own feces, then definitely the cats.
Me: But you're not allowing any middle ground, here. What if an intern and a co-worker saw and that was it.
J: Such a tough dilemma... I'd probably be ok with that. I really think 100 cats for that long would be miserable
Me: Great choice.
J: Would you rather bone Paul Giamatti or Steve Buscemi?
Me: Jesus... Paul. Rosie O'Donnel or Roseanne?
J: WOW good one... Roseanne.
Me: The girl from Precious or someone with no teeth or limbs?
J: Easy, no teeth... imagine those BJs
Me: Gross. Ok what if she had teeth but no limbs
J: I'll still take limbless
Me: Ok, the girl from Precious or an attractive male?
J: Does the fact that I'm even weighing it mean I'm gay?
Me: [uncontrollable laughter]
J: I think Precious and I could work something out.
____________________
The conversation sadly progressed for another 45 minutes and got too inappropriate to share further. I appreciate someone as ill-humored as myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment