This will probably be a short post — I stabbed myself in the hand with a ballpoint pen this weekend and I’m pretty sure I’m dying of ink-poisoning (What? that’s totally real!). But I did have to share 2 conversations with Chuckweasel that prove… I’m pretty fuckin’ funny, y’all.
First off, we were driving through one of Wes’BYGAWD Virginny’s shittier little towns — you know, they’re so broke-ass they ain’t got a Dollar General, they got a Magic Mart? And Chuckweasel mentions that he sent a resume to a job in Portsmouth, Ohio. To which I replied, “I am SO not moving to Portsmouth. It’s like here, but in OHIO.” Because Broke-ass-Ville, WBGV is bad ENOUGH, but at least it’s not OHIO.
Then we passed a work crew and Chuckweasel expressed concern that one of the men was smoking near the electrical lines. And this conversation ensued:
CW: “What if there’s a spark?”
HH: “A spark from what?”
CW: “The ELECTRIC.”
HH: (incredulously) “… Are you really that stupid?”
(He then admitted he was, in fact, NOT that stupid — he had been trying to get ME all worried about the “spark” because he apparently thinks I am that stupid. Nice try, Chuckweasel.)
That’s all for now — I have the ink poisoning to think of.