(Don’t even ask what started this conversation…our texts have a narrative thread that falls somewhere between mescaline overdose and fever-dream.)
Ryan: How would you like a Trump-Cruz ticket.?
Me: I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of me dying.
Ryan: That’s something you could put on Pay-Per-View.
(A second later…)
Ryan: To be clear…Trump-Cruz, not your dying.
Me: Thanks for clarifying, sweetie. Wait, are you saying my death isn’t good enough for Pay-Per-View?
Ryan: Yeah…I don’t think I can win here, so I’m just going to tell you you’re pretty and hope for the best.
Fisticuffs and Shenanigans 
GOOD SAVE! ha ha ha ha ha!!! And OMG! Let’s not go down THAT rabbit hole! blech! 😛
Ryan sounds like a wise man. Except for the Trumpety-Cruzity part. Oops, gotta go watch them feed the penguins.
This is a minefield I don’t miss 😀
Yes, but then there’s the nightfarts and snoring. You miss that, right?
how can I? I do both 😀
Same, brother…same.