Rich sends me a story about that guy leaving One Direction.
Me: You do know it’s One Republic I like, right?
Me: Can you print this? I am out of color ink, yo.
I sent it to Dr. Pepper (had a $5 gift card for Walmart) instead of Rich
Dr. Pepper: The coupon can be printed in black and white. If not, let us know and provide a mailing address.
Me: That was meant to go to my husband. I apologize for my unprofessional email.
We’re at Walmart and there’s a girl there in a camo jacket with pajamas and slippers on.
Me: There’s your girlfriend!
Going out to our truck…
Rich: There’s your future husband.
He’s wearing a tank top with pajamas and flip flops.
We’re in Dairy Queen and they were playing this song that kept repeating itself kind of like a certain dance number or something.
Me: This sounds like one of those cruise ship songs where the director would have you doing certain dance moves to it and we’d get tired of hearing it. I’d be good at that though…(then I start doing these pantomime dance moves since no one was in there to see me really)
Rich: You need to stop dancing, white girl.
So our vet wants us to give our dogs Benadryl since they have allergies so Walmart has the off-brand for 88 cents each. We bought ten of them a week or two ago. Tonight we were watching Breaking Bad again from the beginning.
Rich: Wonder why they didn’t say anything about all of that Benedryl we bought.
Me: Because that’s not the kind with the D in it or the psuedo whatever that you get behind the counter.
Rich: Oh, that’s right. Makes sense.
Me: I was just hoping someone didn’t think we were meth cookers who didn’t know what we were doing and we looked stupid.