“You and your letters. And these things you call words and sentences.”
By Hannah Wallace
I don’t remember where I first learned of thingsmyboyfriendsays.com (warning: adult language), and it hasn’t been updated in at least a year now, but all credit goes to that site for the title/quote structure here. All of the rest of the credit goes to CCB for being random and weird.
Death of a nation.
CCB: There are 55 people in the U.S. named Hannah Wallace. There are 2,304 people in the U.S. named [Cheetah Club Boyfriend].
ME: I’m special.
CCB: My army would kill your army.
ME: My army would write poetry while it died.
CCB: My army would put all the Hannahs on little reservations. And let them open casinos
Turn on a fan, genius.
While using cleaning products with improper ventilation
It hurts me in the head on the inside.
Dot dot dot (dot dot).
ME: There’s a tad too many periods in your ellipses.
CCB: I like……long dramatic ellipses.
Necessity is the homemaker of invention.
CCB: I wish they could make something that I could spray that would put my clothes away and take out the trash.
ME: You could spray yourself back to the 50s and get married.
CCB: Nah. I’ll just spray myself with some get-off-your-ass-and-clean.
Prep the epidural.
Pretending his beer gut is a pregnant belly:
CCB: The twins are sleepy.
CCB: I hope it’s twins. Otherwise, that’s going to hurt.
Time to cry?
Realizing he’d stayed up too late on a work night:
What do you call the time between Wednesday and Thursday? The time that sucks?
You ‘can’t take Bud Light’?! That’s like saying you can’t go outside because the air is too deadly.
Blue Ribbon at the sideshow.
Re: his relative lack of chest hair.
It’s a contest. My back is winning.
After dragging me onto Splash Mountain.
You see? Listen to the happy music. [Beat.] You’re having a stroke, aren’t you.
CCB’s philosophy on lactose.
It’s easier to get too much cheese than to get too much whipped cream.
CCB: What’s “svelte”?
ME: It means crazy-thin.
CCB: Oh, that’s not me. Is there a “svat”? Can I be that?
CCB: I need more tattoos.
ME: What do you care about?
Tools of the trade.
You can’t solder a toilet back together without a beer!
ME: You’re a Virgo?
CCB: Yes. I’m waiting until marriage to change my Zodiac sign.
It’s like, say you just kidnapped Aaron Sorkin and said, “Write me a play!” You can’t come back five minutes later and say, “Bitch, is it done?”
That’s not me smelling. That’s the things I’ve told, “NO! You are not allowed in my body.”
CCB: My throat hurts. There’s a big thing in it.
ME: A big thing?
CCB: Yeah. I think it’s a monkey. [Pause. Frowns.] I don’t like monkeys anymore.
Yelling at other drivers.
ME: That’s what turn signals are for!
CCB: Is that what they’re for? I thought they were for blinky. Driving down the road: “ I want to blinky now.”
I could be a cow and no one would notice, except I am a boy.
I believe not drinking during the week has made my ability to get drunk easier.
Ooowwww. Hannah goes punchy punchy.