Scenario Numero Uno: While playing foozball this weekend, I threatened to walk away from the table unless Preston stopped slamming the ball into my goal as soon as it entered play. (I'm not a poor sport, but I'm never going to get better unless this stops. And I am a slightly poor sport - that's no fun!!) He stopped - for a bit. Then he slam shots another ball home. I say, "Preston, what is the rule when playing foozball?" He says, "To beat the crap out of you at all costs." Then, "Oh, wait, that's my secret rule." Not so secret any more.
Scenario Do(h)s: Last weekend was tax-free weekend in Texas, so I dragged Preston to Kohls, where I also had a $10 coupon. Preston hates shopping, but once in stores he is actually incredibly helpful, with the goal of getting out of there asap. So he was going through a rack of pants looking for my size and he says, "Ok, should I be looking for a 10 or an 8 in these?" I say, "How about a 6??" Damn right I'm buying 6s again. Damn fucking right.
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