My Dinner with Alex

I had dinner with my sister tonight at a Mexican restaurant she calls “good.”Which, umm, no. It was not good nor was it particularly Mexican. I mean American cheese in a quesadilla? But it was my sister who served up the tastiest morsels this evening. Behold:

About a guy friend’s ex-girlfriend: “I mean she’s 30 and she’s not married.”

After telling her when my haircut/color appointment is: “NEXT Thursday?! OMG, how are you going to walk around like that for a week?!”

Her argument style: “I figured we were fighting anyway, I might as well bring up how much I hate the picture of the baby killing the mother … and the monkey painting. It consolidated the arguments.”

To reiterate, she really hates this monkey painting: “I told him the only reason why everyone compliments it is because there’s nothing else on the walls to look at!”

On her unemployment status (after being employed for three months): I’m sick of everyone saying, jokingly, ‘How’s retirement going, Alex?’ I mean I’m going to get a job. Eventually. Till I have kids, at least.”

Regarding her refined palate: “This place is good. I mean their chips suck because they taste like they’re store-bought, and my chicken’s dry, and your veggies are clearly from a frozen Birdseye bag, but it’s still good here.”

How she gets her dinner for free: “Uhhh, you’re going to pay, right?”

–End scene–


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