"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."
"Listen. Let me make you some carnitas and coconut mousse and then we’ll get in bed with your dog and pet him and talk about how soft his fur is and then you can read your spy book while I tidy up the kitchen and if you fall asleep, I’ll wake you before I go so you can feel my chest hair one last time."
"Given how long you’ve been inspecting these photos of me, I think you need to explain again to your husband that no, you don’t have a hairless fetish. He won’t believe you but you might as well try. Also, I agree about your internet connection. It totally sucks donkey balls today. Chin up, love. This too will pass."
"Finish your work and you get to dick around with impunity all weekend long, yes? You can do it, Carrie!"
"Mmm, yes. I understand what you’re saying. I, too, feel that sometimes it’s important to lie about amidst the books and do nothing. Or watch a lot of TV. Or dip pieces of dark chocolate into jars of peanut butter and call that ‘dinner.’ I warrant we are much more alike than different, Carrie. Of that I have no doubt."
"Please. Just take a shower and stop talking. Seriously. No good can come of it. Wash the sand outta your panties and stop being a whiner and then maybe I’ll entertain listening to your nonsense. Maybe. Probably not though."