JESS: I would like to thank you for getting me hooked on “Castle”, and by thank I mean punch you in the tits. It’s not on until TEN! By the time it’s over and I put Zoe to bed for the eight millionth time, I’m not getting to sleep ‘til midnight. You suck.
ME: Jesus, lighten up, Grandma. I haven’t seen you this riled up since your Scooter Chair died during a “Matlock” marathon.
JESS: Yuk it up, bitch. But you were right, the show is pretty rad…I still don’t get your whole obsession with Nathan Fillion, though.
ME: Umm, he's ruggedly handsome, he’s funny as hell, he’s got that comic-book nerdboy thing goin’ on, and he’s Canadian! The only way he could be more attractive is if he ejaculated chocolate.
JESS: I think it’s safe to say that’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever said. Not particularly true…but safe.
ME: Whatev. Anyway, you needed to get hooked on a new show. “Glee” has gotten weak, yo.
JESS: Right? If I hear Lea Michelle mangle one more Bruno Mars song I’m seriously gonna lose my shit.
ME: And does EVERY episode have to be a “very special” episode about gay teenagers? It’s friggin’ Glee Club, of course there are gay teenagers. That’s like having a “very special” episode of “House” where someone gets a weird disease, Chase says it’s sarcoidosis, then House tells everyone to fuck off.
JESS: . . .What’s it like in your head?
ME: Surprisingly pleasant. (checking phone) Huh. . .
ME: Oh, Max just texted me. So, do you know how to get olive oil out of bed linens?
JESS: God, I hope that’s a rhetorical question.
ME: From Max? Not so much. That boy’s had more strange ass than a TriMet bus. So where’s Sean this weekend?
JESS: His annual Palm Beach golf-fest with his brothers.
ME: I don’t understand golf. You basically just walk around outside, lugging a bag, and muttering and cursing. It's like being homeless in really ugly pants.
JESS: I don’t mind golf, I just hate hanging out with Sean’s brothers. Aaron is a Republican and Blake is a liberal so every time they get together it’s like freaking “Crossfire”. Thanks, guys. While you’re telling me about your political platform, why don’t you also fill me in on your fantasy football team and show me pictures from your vacation. That way, I can not give a shit about everything all at once.
ME: At least I know better than to discuss politics with your hippie ass.
JESS: I’m not a hippie!
ME: Umm, you voted for Nader, Patchouli McRainbow.
JESS: Oh, like your candidates are much better? Let’s see, we’ve got Mitt Romney, the millionaire and Newt Gingrich, a professor. Sweet! We’re just two sluts and a fat guy away from “Gilligan’s Island”.
ME: Hey, if I could live through the “bwocka-wocka” porn guitar riff of the Clinton Administration, then you can suck it and deal with a Conservative president for a while. Besides, I’m a pretty liberal Republican.
JESS: What does that even mean?
ME: It means I think criminals should be electrocuted but it should be in a really comfy Barc-o-Lounger.
JESS: You need to crush the tinfoil on your helmet because some of the crazy is starting to seep in.
ME: Oh, lighten up, Susan Sarandon.
JESS: Back atcha, Ann Coulter.