Subscribe to my feed
The other day Bernadette got a wedding magazine delivered to her house, addressed to me. She sent me a text immediately.
Bern: Why is there a wedding mag in the mailbox addressed to you?
Me: Beats me.
Bern: I'm serious. WTF?
Me: Your guess is as good as mine.
Bern: I think you know more than me in this situation, Eisenberg!
Me: You're insane.
Bern: Yeah, whatever. Just make sure you send me a postcard from your honeymoon.
Me: Um, your face is stupid.
Bern: Your marriage is stupid.
Me: Lets move on, shall we?
Later that night I told the Metallurgist about the whole fiasco.
"You're going to make such a pretty bride," she told me. "Shut up," I responded.
