Tuesday, November 17, 2009J: "Are you eating yams?"
M: (Scooping a big spoonful of yams into her mouth.) "No."
J: "Yes, you are."
M: "Prove it!" (She chews ferociously on the yams stuffed in her cheeks.)
J: "The proof is in your mouth."
M: "You can't prove a thing!"
J: "There are yams in your braces."
M: "Those could be from a week ago, Jake. It proves nothing."
J: "You're sitting there eating yams. Why do you deny it?"
M: "No, I'm not. What is your problem?"
J: "Obviously, I'm retarded."
Later in the day, I get M. good.
J: "You've just been OYCED, FACED, and BURNED all in one fell swoop."
I lick my finger and press it to my butt. I make a hissing noise.
J: "Burned! Oyced! Faced!"
I move the palm of my hand up and down in front of my face.
J: Yeah, do you remember 1987? I do. It was the year of the OYCE!"
M. tosses a wheat protein berry shake packet at me and leaves.