So, Fi and I went to happy hour after work today. Apparently the "candy cart" came around at work today (this always makes me think of the Hogwarts Express) and he ate a TON of candy in the afternoon. Then he ordered two really high alcohol beers.
He is currently telling me how shiny my e-ring is and I'm moving it "really fast" near my computer which is giving off light, and how really he's basically a raccoon who's distracted by shiny things and movement. Then he got up from the couch, tripped over his feet, and dropped the remote on the ground, exclaiming, "Oopsies!"
He just went into the bedroom. I hear, "ARrrgh" and our cat runs out of the room. Fi: "Ummm.... I wasn't bothering the cat."
Now he's telling me how sometimes when he farts on the couch, it builds up like a pressure cooker and "explodes" when he gets off the couch.
This is the father of my future children, folks.
"I'm not a rude bitch. I'm ten rude bitches in a large coat."