Tuesday, August 3, 2010

I'm pretty sure we went to the leather fetish factory...or maybe it was just on TV

ESSIE: “DW, say something stupid. I need material for my blog.”

DW: “I’m not falling for that one.”

ESSIE: “You’ve fallen for it like, thirty times.”

DW: “Don’t write anything. No one’s going to care.”

ESSIE: “Yes they will, DW. They will turn on us. They are a fickle, unstable bunch. And before you know it we are watching the smouldering ruins of our house disintegrate as the fire consumes it. And we’re dead.”

DW: “Well, I’ve told you to stop putting all of our personal information on the Internet.”

ESSIE: “It’s not.”

DW: “Your license plate number is on there. And your e-mail. And a picture of our house. And don’t blog about this, you’ll just draw more attention to it.”

ESSIE: “I won’t, DW. I’m not STUPID. Maybe I can write about that time we went to the leather fetish factory. That was fun. Remember that?”

DW: “No. Probably because it never happened.”

ESSIE: “You’re not fun anymore.”


  1. Well, there's always the option to recover old stories of stupid stuff he's done like when he let go of the zipline and almost racked himself on the dam below. The stuff IS there, you just have to occassionally dig up stuff from the dredges and then you can recap things from the present when he gets pissed at the past being brought up again.

    Likewise there's also the time he confused the air conditioner for the economy mode.