You guys know how Chooch and I fight over everythang right? From semantics to the hue of the sky to Yanny or Laurel, we will bicker until Henry has to threaten to take away our privileges. I guess that’s what happens when you’re basically the same person. (This is why I can’t be friends with people who are too much like me!)
(Also, can you imagine if Chooch was also a Leo?!)
We even fight over cats, as in, whose cat is better/prettier/smarter/cuter/less smellier.
Last night, everything was pretty quiet. Chooch and I were coexisting peacefully, watching theme park YouTube videos, when I looked at Penelope who was sitting on her tower like a perfectly furry loaf.
“Penelope is so cute, she could be a Disney character!” I cooed. “Penelope, you could be Snow White’s kitty!”
Chooch fake-gagged on his water. “YEAH RIGHT, she’s more like Hunchback of Notre Dame!” And then he kept calling her Quasimodo (after he googled the name because HE WAS TOO DUMB TO KNOW.)
(YEAH I CALLED MY KID DUMB AND I’LL CALL YOU DUMB TOO SO GO AHEAD, REPORT ME.)
So in retaliation I looked at HIS CAT DREW and in my effort to come up with a better burn, I blurted out, “Yeah well Drew could be Ursula’s….SHOULDER PAD!”
Chooch gaped at me. “WTF?” he cried. “That doesn’t even make sense!”
“YES IT DOES!” I was now on my knees, laughing so hard that my eyes were birthing pure drops of comedy rain, picturing Drew perched on Ursula’s shoulders, a natural extension of her oceanic hideousness.
Chooch continued to scoff at me so I ran upstairs and woke up Henry so I could tell him my sick burn.
He too just stared at me. “You’re so dumb,” he murmured. But he just wasn’t awake enough to fully grasp the perfection of this insult, the smartly crafted nuances of my name-calling.
I came back downstairs and continuously called Drew “Ursula’s Shoulder Pad” until Chooch eventually blocked me out. Later, I laughed myself to sleep.
This morning, Chooch was still dwelling on it. “And Ursula doesn’t even wear a shirt that would have shoulder pads,” he argued, desperately grasping for straws but MAMA OWNS THIS SODA SHOP OF SICK BURNS, BOY. NO STRAWS FOR YOU.
On my lunch break, I was on the phone with Henry as usual. He’s like obsessed with me and makes me check in with him every afternoon. (Lolz.) He had just gotten home from work and was starting to say something about Drew.
“Ursula’s Shoulder Pad,” I corrected him and he flipped out about how dumb it is. So triggered!!
“Do you think it’s just as good or better as when I used to call Speck [RIP] ‘Breakfast Nook’?” I brayed which is how I talk when I’ve reached Critical Giddiness.
“THAT WAS JUST AS STUPID,” Henry barked. Wow, Henry’s got no jams.
I kept randomly thinking about this all day and I’d have to stifle my snort-laughs at my desk. Finally, I went over to tell Glenn and Todd. Todd stopped listening as soon as I said “cats” because he hates cats. But Glenn heard me out.
“That’s…really stupid,” he said, BUT HE WAS TRYING NOT TO SMILE. “It doesn’t even make sense. Why….?”
By the time I told Lauren, I was Bobcat Goldthwaiting all up in her space but she thoughtfully considered it and said, “No, you know what? It is funny. I don’t really know why, but it is. I’m on your side!”
YESSSSSSSS. I couldn’t wait to tell Henry.
“No, it’s still dumb, and Lauren is dumb too for encouraging you,” he sighed when I told him after work.
Just a few minutes ago, I was dancing to the Ursula’s Shoulder Pad jingle which I made up on the fly. “I really think this is the funniest thing I’ve ever said,” I said while sliding around in my socks. “I’ll never be this funny again!”
“It’s literally the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, so….” Henry sighed.
TOUGH FUCKING CROWD.
But seriously, look at those arm barnacles!
(Henry just said I’m dumb again and that’s literally all he ever says to me so I think that means he has a crush on me.)
(YOU GUYS I JUST MADE THAT PICTURE THE LOCKSCREEN ON CHOOCH’S PHONE HE IS GOING TO BE SO PISSED!)
ETA: Or is she really HENRY’S SHOULDER PAD?? Oh shit did I just … MAKE SENSE of this?! Did I just … TIE THIS ALL TOGETHER? Wow, that’s almost like real blogging.