Me: Wonder if that damn dog is ever going to stay out of the trash.
Myself: Oh come on. You know better. The trashcan is basically the epitome of doggy heaven. Nothing like 3 day old pizza and last nights left over ramen to fill your tummy.
Me: Yeah I know, but you would think after what, 4 years, that they would at least have some manners and keep what they DON’T eat in the can. Or at least not knock it over. Or something?
Myself: But that’s half the fun. Remember when you knocked over that trash can at the gyno’s office? That was great.
Me: Um. Not really. I was like 9 months pregnant and couldn’t see my feet…. or that stupid trashcan. Who puts that shit RIGHT by the door? I didn’t need to see empty pee cups and… uck.
Myself: Empty pee cups bother you, but you are constantly trying to figure out what exactly the mutt just puked up? Riiiight.
Me: Well come on. Half the time they re-eat it. So why not? Besides, it’s much more fun if it’s not you doing the puking. It’s always kind of a down fall when you’re all “Heeey! I ate that Olive Pizza earlier!” or even worse “kid, you totally ate that burger 2 hours ago!”
Myself: Yes Yes. But that one time with the green Hi-C? Yeah that was epic. It was like slimer was … yeah.
Me: Okay seriously? I had managed to block that out for years now… both the show and the epic puking.
Katie: Dude. Do you always talk to yourself like that?
Katie: Thanks for the coffee. Glad you haven’t changed.