Somebody is cooking me dinner. It's all very exciting, and I keep hearing fragments of phrases filtering in from the.. stove. Damn alliteration and damn the Fs for not producing enough words. Some of the highlights were:
"Looks a little funny, doesn't it?*"
"Cover.. cover.. 13 minutes.. gross."
10 points to the first person who knows what gourmet meal My Darling Dear is cooking for me tonight.
Extra bonus goes to the first person to guess which flavor Hamburger Helper(TM) he's cooking!
*I think he was talking to the cat. Or that's what I'm choosing to believe.
[I get the 10 points because, well, I'm the greatest. Also, if you've been reading for any length of time, it's a stupid question. We eat Hamburger Helper(TM) at every single meal. And then we eat the leftovers after the bar closes, sitting on the floor in front of the computer desk, in the nude. And when we wake up the next morning, we get really sad when we can't figure out where the leftover Hamburger Helper(TM) went. And then when Bruce explains to us that we ate it naked sitting on the floor after the bars closed, we say, "Ahhh, yes, I remember. That was really good!" And then we make some more Hamburger Helper(TM). For breakfast.]