Part I

SD: Maybe I should get you a pager.

Mad: So you can page me during the day and ask, “Have you done this yet?”

SD: That’s what I do to people at work.

Mad: Bring it on. Maybe it’ll help me.

SD: Maybe I could invest in one of those electro-shock collars, too.

Mad: Whatever works.

SD: Well, that’s what I’m looking for, what’s most effective.

Mad: I hear you, man.


Interlude: Princess Zurg learns the meaning of “TMI”


Princess Zurg: Stop slapping Mommy’s bum.

SD: Why shouldn’t I slap Mommy’s bum?

PZ: Mommy’s bum is private.

SD: Not to me.

Mad: Nothing’s private when you’re married.

PZ: Nothing?

Mad: Pretty much.

PZ: You mean you can see each other naked?

Mad: Yes.

SD (simultaneously): You sure can.

PZ (incredulous): Do you see each other naked?

Mad (thinking we’ve had this talk? a couple times?): Uh…yeah.

PZ: Do you–(stops, wheels turning…thinking…thinking…thinking………..then suddenly) Do you like my picture?

Mad: I love your picture.


Part II

Sugar Daddy (referring to the paper towel and wet tea bag his wife has just set upon it): Would you throw that away please?

Madhousewife gives her husband her “Are you kidding me with this?” face as she throws the wet tea bag and paper towel–which she was not quite finished with–into the garbage can.

SD (feeling unjustly maligned by the “AYKMWT?” face): It’s just–they pile up, all over the counters–

Mad: Whatever, dude.

SD: They do! They’re just like your tampons, all over the place. (???)

Mad: Right. Just like tampons.

SD: Somebody’s testy.

Mad: Whatever.

SD: Doesn’t like being nagged about leaving paper towels all over the place.

Mad: You have a thing about paper towels, I have a thing about dirty socks. (Unspoken: And popsicle sticks and empty Otter Pop wrappers and Slurpee cups and glasses of milk with soggy cookie crumbs in the bottom and shrink wrap and wet towels and globs of hair gel in the sink, yea, that precious cultured-marble sink-integrated-with-the-countertop sink that someone just had to have so his bathroom could match the caliber of his home, and strawberry-and-banana smoothies left to rot on the bookcase while their would-be drinkers leave town for a week…ad lib, etc., usw.)

SD: Well, you should nag more about the dirty socks.

Mad: No. That’s not the way it works, son.

SD: Somebody’s testy.

Mad: Whatever.

SD: Are you mad now?

Mad: Nope.

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