“You two were awesome on the dance floor. You have some serious moves.”
— Everyone at last weekend’s wedding, to me and Eric, but looking only at Eric.

“You two were awesome on the dance floor. You have some serious moves.”
— Everyone at last weekend’s wedding, to me and Eric, but looking only at Eric.

“My neck hurts.”
— Eric, feeling particularly short at last weekend’s non-Jewish wedding.

The airline announces that they will now board all people with disabilities…
Me: “Does your diabetes count as a disability for travel?”
Eric: “Ummm no.”
Me: “Well, it should.”
Eric: “Does your mental illness count as a disability for travel?”
Me: “No. But you have a meter and insulin to prove your disability. I have nothing to prove mine.”
Eric: “They could spend 15 minutes with you.”
Therapist: “You seem irritable and agitated.”
Me: “Yup.”
Therapist: “Are you getting your period soon?”
Me: “JESUS, WHO ARE YOU– ERIC?!?!”
(silence)
Me: “Yeah I’m getting it tomorrow.”

The irony in Trump’s “Second Amendment” suggestion is that the only people intelligent enough to decipher his true meaning are the people who would never listen to Trump in the first place. His supporters seem to have missed the message entirely, hearing only, “Hey, gun lovers, go grab your guns and use them to VOTE!” Because that makes complete sense.
So Trump, the next time you’re at a rally and want to sanction the assassination of your opponent, try saying it explicitly and slowly. Really enunciate.
Your people aren’t the brightest.

“Is that like an Emmy for books?”
— Eric, when I told him that the book I’m reading was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize

“Ummm…the table. The bench. The desk. The spice rack. YOUR LIFE.”
— Eric, naming things he’s put together.

You know you’re doing some serious adulting when someone sends you a wedding gift thank you note that includes this line:

I still have a scar.
(Landing smack on top of Eric, who was a mere casualty in my dancing-gone-awry, did help break my fall, though.)
