Actual Conversations

“Kat-illac!”
“Jeffery!”
“So Kat-illac, what are you doing after Alaska?”
“Oh gosh Jeffery. What a stupid question. I don’t know. Living in my friend’s closet under the stairs?”
“A closet?”
“Yeah, good memoir material right there.”
“Ohhh Kat-illac.”
“Ohhh Jeffery. (pause) Maybe you should bug me until I figure out my life. Or maybe you should just tell me what to do with my life.”
“Burlington, Vermont, Kat-illac. Burlington, Vermont.”
“Burlington?”
Burlington. (gestures with spatula) Fun town.”
“Ok Jeffery.”
(cooking duties resume)
“How about being a surrogate mother?”
What? That sounds horrible, Jeffery, horrible. Also, how do I explain that to my mother?”
————-
“Look at dishland, Kat-illac. (shakes head)”
“There are a lot of dishes, Jeff.”
“A whole lot of dishes. (pause) What’s the road to Hell paved with?”
“Good intentions, Jeffery, good intentions.”
“It’s an eight-lane highway, Kat. An eight-lane highway to Hell.”
————-
“Who told you that one moldy lemon kept the others from rotting?”
“Er, a kitchen person…?”
“(shakes head) Ohhh Kat-illac. Whoever he is, he’s an idiot.”
“Jeffery! I’m gullible! Geez!”
“One moldy lemon…? Seriously? Also, you’re not making toast for the EDR.”
“It’s not toast, Jeffery. It’s crusty French bread.”
“It’s toast, Kat, toast. Now get the rice.”

“Make sure to get the nose from this side, Kat-illac.”

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