Decent Proposals
- Me: We need to roast a fucking chicken soon.
- Whitney: that is the most romantic thing you have ever said to me.
- Whitney: I hope one day a man says that to me and hides a ring inside the chicken's innards. THAT is my dream man.
- Me: there should be a certain amount of blood and guts involved in any proposal. Just to make sure everyone is serious.
- Whitney: I mean, I think [redacted] would also be capable of that.
- Me: he would hide it inside of a pig's head.
- Whitney: behead a pig and then put the ring inside the skull.
- Me: and shout "SURPRISE INSIDE" just like a fleshy Cracker Jack Box.
Hey look, you guys. I made this! In case you didn’t know, someone special had a birthday last weekend.
(Source: whitneyricketts)
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Job Description
- Whitney: You are the wind beneath my wings.
- Me: WE TRADE OFF.
Drew is her own imaginary power couple.
What can I say? I have big dreams. Most of them involving bottle service in heaven.
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Modern Love
- me: let's stay home, I have Diet Coke.
- Whitney: more romantic words have never been spoken.
Mission Statement
Me: Not everyone can handle dating a tiny dog.
Whitney: you have to get a special bag for it and feed it treats at frequent intervals.
Me: It takes a real man to date a tiny dog.
Whitney: someone needs to come feed me treats and put me in a little satchel that is really a bed.
Me: a little satchel that is really a bed. This is what we need. Give me a man who gives me that, and I’ll show you the man I’ll marry.
Whitney: everything that is what it is not.
Me: we need whimsy that is not whimsy.
Whitney: we need sincerity that is not sincerity.
Whitney: WE ARE SEEKING A NEW AND MIGHTIER WORLD
Me: WE SEEK THE INTERNET!
Whitney: That is our game. Life, edited.
Me: To be funnier. To be cuter.
"We smoke cigarettes hoping we might feel that numbness in our feet again. But it’s August and no one has jumped in the lake. We don’t fuck anymore, especially not on fire escapes. We cuddle when we get drunk enough to remember that once we made out until the sun came up. Maybe if we make out the sun will come up again. It’s never that same shade of pink and you never kiss me that same way."
My dear, wonderful Whitney Ricketts has a piece up over at Pilot Books.
Gluten's Greatest Hits
- Whitney: I love eating leftover pasta with my bare hands.
- Whitney: I should change that to my religion on Facebook.
- Me: Even if the pasta is plain, dry and nasty it feels so decadent. Like, "THIS BELONGS TO ME. I AM A GIANT."
- Whitney: This is why we can't have nice things.
IN WHICH WE NAME OUR GAME
- When I'm feeling down, Whitney sends me old chats. In the following, she is "me" and I am "Drew," which I suppose I always am. We still haven't started that blog.
- Drew: Good Slacks & A Sensible Blouse. We should start a blog and call it that.
- me: kill me with Angela Lansbury
- Drew: You love it
- me: how about Bleach & Guns Like Lady Gaga in The Videophone Music Video Dot Com
- Drew: That does not describe us
- Drew: Get real
- Drew: More like Stretch Pants with Sauce Stains
- Drew: Bang Wars and Supercuts
- me: Bang Wars in Bangalore
- Drew: I Wash My Bangs in the Sink
- Drew: Clean in the Front, Dirty in the Back
- Drew: The Only Clean Article Of Clothing On My Person is My Underpants (Maybe)
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