Wednesday, November 23, 2011

In which we're the Donner Party.

You guessed it..another bedtime conversation.

I've mentioned several times that my husband is an anemic little girl. It will be 75 degrees, and he's like "where is my sock hat?"

He comes in the bedroom, and turns off the fan (Matt), and I give him the "I will cut you if you touch me" look. I am toasty, but he gets in the bed, wraps up like a cat burrito**, and starts shivering like Jack Dawson.

I gave in, and said "fine, use me for warmth".

*Few moments go by*
*He's still shaking like he's having an epileptic fit*

Me: You know, I have come to the terms that if we're trapped in a cave during a blizzard, that I would only be used for warmth and food.

Scott: What?

Me: Because I'm warmer than you. And I have more fat. And you're pretty much just bones lately.
Wait. You can't eat me. I have more fat, therefore, I can live longer. I am totally a survivor. I would kick ass in The Hunger Games. You, not so much.
My body will feed like a buffet for days. Sorry dude.
But wait. I stay thirsty. I will have a caffeine headache. This won't do.
This is the worst snow in ever.

Scott: Hey can I... *the following conversation deleted for your own good*

Me: No. Go to sleep.


Cat burrito

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