I’m fed up, and about to disprove his bullshit theory once and for all by posting a conversation that’s nothing to do with me because I wasn’t even there. HA!
In fact, I won’t even offer any background. Because that would be too much me in this post that—like everything else on these pages, as everyone knows—is about him.
HIM: I’m gonna get going.
AUDREY: What? Why?
HIM: Oh, we’ve got Easter shopping to do, so I should get home.
AUDREY: (confused stare)
HIM: For Easter baskets.
AUDREY: Dude, you know your kid is grown and gone, right? That exempts you from all Easter basket bullshit.
HIM: Yeah, but while he was with us we used to also do baskets for the dogs; they’re used to it, so we decided there’s no reason to end the tradition just because he’s not here to enjoy it. Plus, I like my candy holidays. So we ordered one of those big wireframe totes like you—
AUDREY: She asked me where I got mine, and I wondered what was up with that!
HIM: That’s going to be their Easter basket.
AUDREY: Oh my god. (laughs)
HIM: Yeah, it’s pretty big.
AUDREY: (cannot stop laughing)
AUDREY: (still laughing) Your wife is ridiculous, and I love it.
Astute readers may discern, perhaps even complain, that this conversation did take a turn toward the me but you can’t say it’s my fault—these people talk about me behind my back, then describe it to me independent of one another and on separate occasions.
HUSBAND: So when I was leaving I told Audrey that we were going shopping for Easter basket stuff and she said… then I said… then…
AUDREY: How are the Easter baskets coming? Did your husband tell you what I said when he told me about them? I was like… and then he…
It should be noted that for all their eagerness to tattle report on one another, their accounts didn’t quite match; this is why I don’t usually rely on outside testimony for my Conversations, in case anyone wondered. Amateurs aren’t used to recording every detail and inflection of every exchange, 24/7, on the off-chance something might turn out to be funny on repetition to Internet Strangers.*
And, because I know you’re curious now, here’s the basket.
Yes, that’s a bunny the size of a small child. He wouldn’t fit in the basket.
There’s a slight chance Audrey was right about me.
* In this case, Beloved Internet Strangers, or BIS for short.** I’m trying it out; thoughts?
** I did think of calling you Really Cool Internet Strangers, but that would be RCIS and it seems that name is taken.