I’m One Vial Of Lion’s Sperm From Making Myself A Griffin.



Me: “The real Easter miracle this year?  My neighbor found the last egg today by our fence.  One more day and it would have hatched a basilisk.”

Drew: “Wait…don’t you cook those eggs?”

Me: “Yeah, why?”

Drew: “Well, if it’s been cooked, it can’t hatch.”

Me: “To be clear…you’re saying the reason why I can’t hatch a mythical, giant snake out of a chicken egg…is because I hard-boiled it, first…”

Drew: “I’d like to remind you that, according to you…the egg in question was hidden by a giant, magical rabbit.”

Me: “Touche.”

I Have ALLLL The Huevos



Yet another fantastically heretical Easter Sunday conversation, albeit this time by text with my favorite Jewish doctor.


Drew: Are you done with that whole chocolate egg thing that your people pretend is connected to Jesus, yet.

Me: The kids were done hours ago. Now they’re Skyping with their father.

Drew: Oh great. Is he correcting your parenting from afar, again?

Me: He’s telling them, to tell me, to email him their report cards, and I’m biting my tongue from saying, “Sure, but tell him to send child support”.

Drew: Well, he might actually do it!  It is your people’s day of miracles, after all.

Me: I’m pretty sure that we used all of our miracle cache on that resurrection thing.  No dice.

Drew: If he does, can we say he “rose from the deadbeat”?

Me: I love you so much right now.