Anyone who says the art of conversation is dead hasn’t been privy to the kinds of witty repartee that transpires between Shawn and I (minor editing to remove the irrelevant parts):

Shawn says:

(Sorry – I was aye-eff-kay.)

Jen says:

that’s ok, I just cried

Shawn says:

Why?

Shawn says:

Oh, because of me.

Shawn says:

Right, right.

Jen says:

From the abandonment. And the hurt. And the sad

Shawn says:

I love the “yayaayyaaa” shiznit.

Shawn says:

Well, you know how I am.

Shawn says:

I’m a man, babe.

Shawn says:

I belong to the road.

Jen says:

oh?

Shawn says:

You can’t tie me down with babies and marriage!

Shawn says:

I got to keep moving on.

Jen says:

But the wee ones need you, Shawnie!

Shawn says:

*picks up a guitar/leather jacket*

Jen says:

They need to know their dad!

Jen says:

And… and… *I* need you! *sob, sob*

Shawn says:

*pats you on the head* Don worry, l’il lady, I’m sure after Uncle Jimmy gets better from the operation, you’ll have a chance to live out your there dream of bein’ in pictures!

Jen says:

In the meantime, I’ll have to keep dancing nights at the Ladies’ Club… At least while the kids are small, I can keep them locked in the bathroom so they stay out of trouble

Shawn says:

*laugh* Nothing could possibly gro wrong…

Jen says:

Well, that is where I store the bleach and rat poison and industrial-strength cleaning agents, but aside from that, nothing



And that’s without this morning’s discussion of how showing flesh is the only way girls can get ahead in government. Well, that or sleeping with your employers. 🙂

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