Home Skillet

Me: Do you care if I put this on the mantel?
Hubs: I don’t even see what's up there. I don’t think any of that decorating stuff is necessary. I know you do it because it does make our house look more homely --
Me: Homely?
Hubs: Yes.
Me: Homely. Do you know what that means? It means ugly. I hope the word you were looking for is homey.
Hubs: Oh. Well. . . you're my homey.

Switching Teams

We're getting ready to do a bunch of yard work, and the only crappy all-terrain shoes I have are some old Doc Marten boots. 

Hubs: Breaking out the lesbian boots, huh?
Me: Yes. Keep being an ass and you'll see more of them.

Lips and Asses

Me: I like turkey dogs better than beef. They taste more like the cheap hotdogs I grew up eating. The beef ones are too strong.
Hubs: Yeah, I like the mullet hotdogs better, too.
Me: Did you mean mutt?
Hubs: Um, yes. I did.

Starting Over

We're talking about memorial service arrangements for my recently deceased grandfather, and about funerals in general. Hubs wants nothing to do with any of it and says he's going to fake his death.

Me: Just as long as I get the life insurance.
Hubs: Wow. It's always straight to the life insurance with you.
Me: I'm just saying if you're going to disappear and leave me alone with two kids, there better be something in it for me. I mean, other than a new lease on life.

Pecking Order

Hubs and I are having a dispute about the correct way to do something.

Hubs: But I've been yelled at for doing it that way.
Me: I don’t care. I'm your wife, we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, and I trump everyone else.
Hubs: You trump my mistress?

Post-Apocalyptic Bartering

Hubs came home from the grocery store one day and discovered a random pack of cigarettes in one of the bags. For some reason he's never thrown them away. 

Me: Why do you still have those?
Hubs: I don’t know. But if there's a zombie apocalypse, those will be a valuable commodity.
Me: True.
Hubs: We could trade them for. . . food or something.
Me: I was going to say women.

The Lengths to Which We Go

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J. Edgar Who?

My parents are preparing for a two-week Mediterranean cruise.

My mom: We're not packing separate bags. The travel agent says to make each bag half mine and half your dad's; if one bag gets lost, we'll both still have clothes. It's called cross packing.
Hubs: That happened to me in Paris. I had to go buy pants and some shirts so I could work.
Mom: Yeah, you didn't have anyone to cross dress with.