"I know I’m naked here and that may be considered a little too much by some but this you we’re talking about and you only turn 40 once. Look, just look at me for a while. It’s okay; I can handle it. Then go and get your freak on in however you chose to do so. Okay? Okay."
"Look, it’s just better if you stop complaining. Stop talking completely. No, I get it about the patriarchy silencing you and all. But just stop talking, go take a shower, rub that sorbetto crap all over your skin and THEN make your life decisions. Talk don’t cook the rice, darling. Yes, I’ll go get you a clean towel."
"Girl, you’re gonna have to start writing again soon. That "I’m on a break" thing makes you moody and too up in other people’s business. You can get up in my business whenever, but other people don’t need your moods. It is time to get some words down and bring back the fun. I will be your leather pants-wearing cruise director on the Fun Ship. Now, get with the smithing."
"Girl, you’re turning fucking 40, not dismantling bombs. Pull your middle age shit together & come try some of this sauce I made just for you. If you stop scowling, I’ll let you lick it off my pecs later."
"You’re right. It’s just like you said: a boatload of bummers. It’s grey out, your arms are pale and unmuscular, your house is a disaster, you just laced up your boots and now the top of your foot is itchy for some unknown and unjust reason. I think I will pose here in my suit and slip-on shoes that are awful but probably cost several thousand dollars and feel miserable on your behalf as well."
"Hello, baby. It is sunny and I am rocking the blond trim and maybe I’ll shave the ‘stache & beard if you’re real nice…What am I saying? You’re always real nice. And I love it when you wear your husband’s deodorant. Who can deny a lady with Swagger? Let’s go walk your dog through some puddles & you can tell me all your idiotic writing problems & I will never once interrupt you."
"Would you quit talking about all of the things you hate about women’s fashion and come over here and REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED to us already? Jesus Christ, lady.
"Really? That’s the best you got today?"
…*grumble mutter hmph*
"No…REALLY? You can’t even put on a bra?"
"I regret to inform you that taking a shower, dumping your beloved at the airport, and going to the post office do not count as ‘work.’ Also, if you won’t put a belt on with those Levis, then wear something else. That unseemly hitching up you’re doing every 90 seconds is giving me fits."
"I understand it’s cold there. That you’re trapped in your house surrounded by mountains of impassable snow with children who can’t stop watching episodes of My Little Pony. Sounds pretty dire, really. But I’ve put on this sweater just for the occasion, so how about I come collect you and we’ll go to the thrift store to find me another pair of ill-fitting pants? Yeah, I can wait until you blow out your hair. Wouldn’t want to catch a cold or nothing."
"That’s how its gonna be, huh? I miss some silly holiday by a couple days and ya let some poncy smooth talking foreigner just waltz right in. It’s kinda hard to keep track of dates when we’re busy fighting Walkers, yanno? Ain’t nothing wrong with donuts or coconut darlin’. Ain’t nothing wrong with my sleeves either. Don’t let nobody tell ya different."
"Happy Valentine’s Day, my sweet. You thought I was going to be someone else, didn’t you? That scruffly redneck fellow who keeps bursting through his sleeves, yes? Darling, you are so predictable. Regular as the morning train. Coconut, donuts, your dog, all of it so routine…*leans closer* If you ever had a new idea, it’d surely die of loneliness. So, you, sweet girl, are in dire need of a SWITCH UP. Take that however you wish it to mean."
"Yeah? You’re going running? Really? Even though you’re still in pajamas and underneath your snoring dog? Okay, darling. No, no, I’m sure you are! Of course you are! I’ll be waiting here, smoldering and looking vaguely put out, until you come back.”
"I’m a little miffed, is all. I mean, you keep saying you’re going to put my clean laundry away, but then you don’t and I guess I don’t mind wearing the same damn thing every day, given that we’re one rung above animals at this point. But still. It’s the principle of thing, yanno? You keep talking and doing nothing. Talk don’t cook the rice, girl."