Wasn't this a movie in the 80s?

On watching True Crime shows, in which people find dead bodies . . .

Sally: What would you do if you were out in the woods, and you found a dead body?

Curtis: I don't know. I guess I'd call someone.

Sally: I'd poke it with a stick.

Curtis: Well, OBVIOUSLY. The calling happens after the poking.

Women generally live longer

On the lifetimes of men and women . . .

Sally: I don't know why, but the other day I thought of you dying. I thought about how awful it would be, and how empty my life would be once you were gone. I would be absolutely heartbroken, and I don't know how I'd go on without you. I can see why, sometimes, when one spouse dies, the other dies not long after.

Curtis: Yeah, it would be sad.

Sally: Do you think about that? About me dying, I mean?

Curtis: No, I don't need to think about it. I'll be dead first.

Sally: You don't know that.

Curtis: Sure I do. I'm stupid. I'll fall into a vat of acid long before you croak out.

One day, I'll get that ice cream truck.

On the Ice Cream Truck that regularly visits our neighborhood:

[the Murphy's Oil Soap commercial music plays in the background]

Sally: ooh, ice cream.

Curtis: Are you going to get ice cream?

Sally: Will you go buy me an ice cream?

Curtis: No, the point is that you go run after the Ice Cream Truck.

[Sally gets up and goes to the door.]

Sally: The Ice Cream Truck is gone. One day I'm going to get that Ice Cream Truck.

Curtis: Why? What's the point? All of their ice cream sucks, anyway.

Sally: Like what? What sucks?

Curtis: Well, for one thing, Rocket Pops--

Sally: Rocket Pops? Rocket Pops are fucking awesome.

Curtis: Okay, I'm going to just stop right here.

Sally: I love Rocket Pops. They're the best.

Curtis: You don't know from good. I'll bet you like Mickey Mouse-shaped ice cream.

Sally: No, those taste like cold, wet cardboard.

Curtis: But you like Rocket Pops.

Sally: Don't compare Rocket Pops to Mickey Mouse ice cream. That's not the same. Rocket Pops are three distinct flavors, in brilliant colors. Icky Mouse is not good. Icky Mouse tastes like a lot of nothing.

Curtis: I still wouldn't go buy Rocket Pops.

Sally: Okay, fine. What kind of ice cream would YOU run after?

Curtis: A big bucket of chocolate ice cream. That's it. That's the only ice cream that would inspire me to run down the street after a truck.

He's coming for you!

On bad weather:

Sally: Wow, it looks really bad outside. The sky's green. That can't be good.

Curtis: Yup, the 'nader's coming for you.

Sally: What?

Curtis: The nader. Ralph Nader. Ralph Nader is coming for you, and he's going to make you wear a seatbelt.

Poor Old Mulie

When Carolyn came to visit last weekend, we had a grand time. Among them, she provided a delightful quote. So, a special appearance: Quotes from Qarolyn!

On the subject of decorating one's house, after buying a taxidermied capybara head: "I spend a lot of time on eBay, looking for taxidermied peacocks. But they're really expensive. Like $1,000.00."

Which reminds me of another Quote from Qarolyn, on the subject of eating: "Let's not go to the Greek Festival. Let's eat vegan food and get enemas instead."

And a Conversation with Carolyn, which evolved in strange and wonderful ways:

Sally: Curtis, what would your parents have named you if you'd've been a boy? Jordan?

Curtis: No, Brendon.

Carolyn: Oh, neat. I was always a Carolyn.

Sally: If I'd been a boy, I would have been named after John Wayne's character in The Searchers. I would've been Ethan Edward Evans.

Carolyn: eeeeee!

Sally: I know, seriously. My mother, God love her, was really not all that great with naming things. I think I'm lucky that I'm not "Female Baby" or something. I was named after my two grandmothers, which could've gone really badly. I mean, I could've been . . . I don't know, Maudrine Hildegarde or something. I got off pretty easy with "Sally Roxayn." [If she'd gone with middle names, I'd've been Lou Belle.] Seriously, we had a grey cat when I was a kid. Its name was Grey. And Mom had a cat named Oreo. Guess what color it was?

Carolyn: Black and white?

Sally: That's correct. And we had another cat that showed up in July, and Mom wanted to name it Julie. Because we got it in July. And we had a dog named Wags. One guess why.

Carolyn: Wagged its tail a lot?

Sally: Yup. I got to name Godiva, or her name would've been "Brownie," I'm sure.

The conversation then turned to funny family stories, in which Curtis related the following:

Curtis: We were out to dinner with my parents once, and we started talking about dreaming, and my dad said, "I don't dream anymore." I said, "Sure you do, Dad, everyone dreams." He said, "Nope, I don't dream anymore. Haven't since I was 16, and my mule choked to death on a corncob." I totally wasn't expecting that, and I started laughing, but my dad was dead serious, and I felt terrible.

Then Curtis began to do his impression of a choking mule, which was quite hilarious.

Sally: Poor old mule.

Carolyn: If that mule would've been in your family, Sally, he'd've been named "Mulie," wouldn't he?

Who ARE you?

Before I relate these two conversations, some necessary background:

First: I was named after my two grandmothers. Sally and Roxanne. Almost everyone who knows me well knows this. One of those grandmothers was an amazing gardener; she had the most beautiful yard, full of flowers.

Second: Curtis loves sugar. He regularly gets into fights over it with our friend Tracy. I have a major sweet tooth, but I put sugar in and on very few things. I'm all about pastries, confections, etc.

So, with that in mind . . .

On the subject of not knowing your spouse . . .

Sally: I just love forsythia. It always reminds me of my grandmother.

Curtis: Was her name Forsythia?

Sally: Seriously?

Curtis: Well?

Sally: Yes. Her name was Forsythia, but it's pronounced "Sally." No, her name was Sally! Forsythia's a plant.

Curtis: Oh. Right.

Not 5 minutes later:

Curtis: I haven't been feeling well lately. I'm afraid I might have diabetes.

Sally: I can't imagine that you'd have diabetes, baby.

Curtis: Why?

Sally: You don't eat that much sugar.

Curtis: Have you MET me?

Sally: Oh. Duh. Ha!

NOM, or the Lack Thereof

On the subject of my taste in food . . .

C: Are you going to eat the rest of your cauliflower?

S: No, you can have it.

C: Why? I thought you liked cauliflower.

S: I like raw cauliflower. I hate cooked cauliflower, I think it tastes like butt-flavored feet.

C: What are you, stupid? Butt-flavored feet are delicious. Also cauliflower.

It's Rainin' Death!

On the subject of being outside this coming weekend, with a callback to a conversation we had with Shannon on the subject of Native Americans in New Jersey being cautioned to keep down their squirrel intake, due to radioactivity . . .

S: It's supposed to rain.

C: Yeah, and it's probably going to be radioactive Japanese death rain, too. You know that VA officials issued a statement that people shouldn't drink rainwater?

S: Is that a problem  here? Are a lot of people drinking rainwater?

C: That's what I said. Next thing you know, they'll be telling me not to eat any radioactive squirrels.

S: We don't live in New Jersey, honey. You can still safely eat squirrels here.

C: Just don't wash them down with radioactive Japanese death rain.

KANEDAAAAAA! Er, I mean, um, Kevin. Or something.

On Hollywood ruining something I love:

Curtis: So they're making a live-action version of Akira.

Sally: Oh, that will be AWFUL. Who's doing it?

C: Albert Hughes. And Robert Pattinson is starring in it.

S: What? Why? Oh GOD nooooooo . . .

C: And it's in New York, not Tokyo.

S: Please just stop talking.

Ain't No Party Like a Sally R Party Cause a Sally R Party Don't Start

On celebrating milestones:

Sally: What do you want to do for your birthday?

Curtis: Nothing.

S: Well, what are we doing for mine?

C: Nothing.

S: Nothing?

C: So we agree! Nothing it is.

What We Talk about When We Talk about Love

Once, our friend Crystal, having bemusedly listened to a conversation between my husband Curtis and me, said, "You all have the funniest conversations."

She meant this in a variety of ways. "Funny," as it refers to the conversation topic."Funny," as in humorous. "Funny," as in strangely syntaxed. "Funny," as in absurdly arranged. "Funny," as in hyperbolically and insensibly argued.

And she wasn't the first to say this.

Once, after an especially odd, and terribly enjoyable, conversation, I said to Curtis, "What do you think other people talk about?"

He paused and said, "I don't know. I really don't."

We have serious conversations, about religion and politics.

We have sweet conversations, about our chinchillas, and corgis, and pomeranians, and other cute things.

We have funny conversations, about pop culture.

We have sad conversations, about things that hurt us, both personal and universal.

I don't know that other people don't talk about the things we talk about. Maybe everyone does, and I just don't know it.

Either way, when our friend said, utterly unprompted, that we had funny conversations, I started sharing them on Facebook.

Then other friends began to comment on our conversations, and two of our friends, Erica and Kim, suggested I start a blog featuring our exchanges. I'm going to start with recent conversations, and work backward. I'll also be interspersing conversations I have with friends.

So here we go.

On seeing a compelling music video . . .

Curtis: Who's ripping off Duran Duran?

Sally: I don't know. I don't know who that is. I never know who anyone is anymore.

C: Is it Duran Duran?

S: . . . No. No, I don't think so.

[pause]

S: Wait, no, there's a sign. It's Duran Duran. You're right. But who's the fat guy singing?

C: That's Simon Le Bon.

S: Oh. Oh God.