Soundbytes from the Weekend.

"We aren't playing bitey biterson right now, we are playing sleepy sleeperson."

"Oh look, your backseat. The place all my tupperware goes to die."

"Ian, I tangled your stupid paracord rope around my wrist and can't get it off."
"Hold on, I'll help you in a second."
"Good, but try to take it off all sexy like so I don't feel like such a moron."
"Okay, look. There really isn't a 'sexy' way to remove a rope that you've successfully tangled around your wrist, sorry. I'm just going to have to pull it off, and it might hurt."

"I can hear it now! 'Listen up boys, it's a fight for the finish! I don't care if you have to take a chainsaw to that egg to get in, you just get in!' Haha!"

"Ian, come look at my Ross budget proposal for 2013."
"You have a budget proposal? What just happened to calling it your budget plan? No wait. I like this better. It makes me feel important, like a senator or a president. Maybe a lawyer."
"Okay...?"
"My name is Ian Ross and I approve this budget."

"Introverts unite!"
"....in separate houses, maybe..."

"Can you bring a pie this Sunday?"
"Maaaaayyyybbbeeee..."
"Please?"
"Depends on how bad you want it."
"I don't want it. I just don't want to make it....what do you want?!"
"Your soul. Nom nom nom."

"I just don't think it's fair you own all the properties on that entire corner of the board plus the TARDIS/railroad. It's like you have a monopoly on that section."
"Well, they don't call the game Monopoly for no reason."

To comic con or not to comic con: The sad story of a dejected nerd

I know that my previous post probably led you to believe that this post would be about my terrifying rule as the eldest sibling in my home, but surprise! I am living up to my randomness and will be proceeding with a completely different story in which a husband breaks his wife's heart into a million pieces. I am afraid if I don't document it now, I won't remember it accurately enough to give it justice later. Also let me preface this with information that Ian and I are attempting to creat a spawn of our own to raise.

So around three weeks ago, my husband and I were shopping with my in laws for my halloween costume at the various thrift stores in town. I had decided to go as a female version of the 11th doctor from Doctor Who. If you haven't watched Doctor Who, and haven't the slightest idea what I am talking about, WATCH IT! It's amazing! *nerdgasm* We visited four different stores before I had assembled the perfect costume (I'll post pictures later) and I was on a shopping high. While on my nerdy shopping/halloween/whovian high, I realized that not once in the past four years of begging had my husband and I gone to comic con. It is my ulitmate nerd dream to go. Just being in the same building as Steven Moffat, Matt Smith, Nathan Fillion, and Joss Whedon...words cannot describe what my reaction would be. Probably a heart attack at having too much awesome in one space.

Back on track...I turned to my husband for the umpteenth time in our marriage and asked once more to PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE go to comic con this year. His answer was no. Again.

Me: But Ian! I have a costume this time and I could cosplay and I won't buy anymore books for myself all year if I can go, please please please!

Ian: Ang, if all goes according to plan, and quickly, you will be like a thousand months pregnant this summer, which is when comic con is, if you don't remember.

Me: A thousand months pregnant isn't even possible and I don't see how being pregnant should prevent me from going. I have this awesome costume--

Ian: (interrupting me) If you're pregnant you can't even fit into your awesome costume. Also, you can't handle large crowds of people now with just you, I am sure if you were pregnant you might explode. On top of that, no one will let you on a plane if you are that pregnant.

Me: We could drive...

Ian: Absolutely not. I am not getting anywhere near a vehicle with a pregnant version of you. The unpregnant version of you in the car is almost too much already.

Me: You make me sad. You want to destroy my happiness.

Ian: No, I want to keep my sanity and prevent any murders that would land you in prison.

Me: Can we go post baby?

Ian: *long drawn out, probably unnecessary sigh* Sure, we can go post baby. Can we talk about something else instead?

Me: Sure...like what we will dress our baby up in for comic con 2014??

Ian: *facepalm*

And that is the sorta of sad story of a nerd having her dreams of going to comic con 2013 crushed by her husband who just doesn't understand.


Well, he does, as he is just as nerdy as I am, but he is also a lot more reasonable and can plan into the future better than I can. Where I wouldn't connect the fact that we are trying to get pregnant now with the fact that I could end up being pregnant this summer and thus unable to travel, he can. Which makes him perfect for me, because I probably would have done way crazier and way more stupid things by this point in my life if it wasn't for him being there to tell me to stop being crazy and stupid.

I love my husband.