The scene: I am changing yet another diaper while the babydaddy is preparing a lovely meal that the two of us will no doubt share under the din of high-pitched screams.
Me: Oh god!
Me: …The baby just farted in my face.
BD: Ew, gross.
Me: I know. And it was forceful, too. A quick, hard puff of air to the face. Kind of like a foul-smelling glaucoma test.
BD: Ha! We should rent him out for that.
Me: We could sure use the extra
meth candy bar money. But who would pay for something like that?
BD: Maybe people without good health insurance?
Me: Let’s look into it. (pause) Hey, this would make a great blog post. I’m really behind in my blogging.
BD: Phrasing, lady.
Me: But seriously. Help me flesh out this conversation we’re having so I can post it.
BD: Again, phrasing.
Me: What would be a good ending for this post of dialogue?
Me: I still got it. Now start making flyers for our new mobile infant glaucoma test machine.