Mundane

B: Dude, who?
A: Jennifer Garner. She would definitely give up her daughter for world peace.
B: I don't know. She's not really into that UN shit like Angelina or Clooney. What about Joe Pesci?
A: Does that guy even have kids?
B: I dunno...I think he's married to some supermodel chick or something.
A: You just made that up, didn't you?
B: Are you going to that thing tonight?
A: What thing?
B: Jessica's party or whatever. She mentioned it at the bar on Saturday.
A: I don't know...is The Apprentice on?
B: Fuck you and The Apprentice. That show is corrupting America.
A: No more than your mother.
B: Nice one. You read that in a book?
A: No, www.yourmothersawhore.com.
B: I'll have to bookmark it.
A: Rent's due on Monday. Don't forget.
B: I'll be sure to put a reminder post-it on my forehead.
A: Fuck you. I was just trying to be nice. Watch the news last night?
B: No. What happened?
A: This bear in California killed his trainer. Bit him right in the neck.
B: No shit? Polar bear?
A: No, asshole. Brown bear or some shit. But can you imagine getting bit in the neck by a bear?
B: Wouldn't his whole head have fallen off? It must have been a big bite, right? Those things don't give little love bites.
A: No, I think his head was in tact. They didn't show pictures, though.
B: Shit.
A: Yeah.
B: I'm thinking about calling that Vicki chick.
A: The one from work?
B: Yeah.
A: You think that's a good idea? Doesn't she report to you?
B: Technically, yes. But she's in like, a totally different department.
A: Doesn't sound like a good idea, B. What does she look like?
B: Solid 8. The only thing's she's got this weird laugh. It's like a high pitched giggle. It's embarrassing.
A: Good thing you're not funny.
B: Dick.
A: No seriously though. If you like her, go for it. Just don't let your whole office know about it. Look what happened to Scott.
B: That guy was an idiot. He banged Julie in the employee lounge.
A: I'm just saying.
B: Yeah, okay. Orioles won again.
A: Oh goody, let me update my blog.
B: Fuck you.

Toothpick

G: I’m leaving you.
B: Yeah, okay. Are you going to eat your tomato?
G: Did you hear what I said? And no, have it.
B: I heard it. And I heard it when you said it last week at Target.
G: Yeah, well this time I mean it. I even told Gloria about it.
B: Oh, well if you told your hairdresser then you must be serious this time. Can you pass the vinegar?
G: I hate how you put vinegar on your fries. It smells like feet.
B: No, feet smell like feet. This smells delicious. Plus it’s healthier than mayonnaise. Europeans are disgusting.
G: I’m not kidding, B. We’re not good together anymore. You don’t hang up your clothes, your cooking is bland, and Fitzgerald hates you.
B: That cat is the devil and you know it. Plus any cat that drools has bigger issues than hating a 34-year-old copy editor.
G: Speaking of that, are you working this weekend?
B: I need more root beer. You think they have free refills?
G: B!
B: What?!
G: Are you working this weekend?
B: For a couple hours on Saturday morning, I think. I have to finish that geriatric piece.
G: Good. That’ll give me time to box up your stuff.
B: Don’t forget my magazines under the bed, okay?
G: You think this is a joke? You won’t be laughing when you wake up on Sunday morning without me. I am the best thing that ever happened to you and you’re throwing it away!
B: Fine. I’ll add more salt to my shepherd’s pie. How’s that? And I’ll hang up my clothes every Tuesday. No promises on Fitzgerald, though. They make the best burgers here. I think it’s something with the grease. Gives you heartburn, though.
G: You want a Pepcid?
B: Yeah, thanks babe.
G: You repulse me, you know that?
B: Well pass me a napkin then.
G: No, it’s not that. Although yeah. You have ketchup on your lip. I’m talking about how you just ignore me like what I say doesn’t matter.
B: Well you’re being ridiculous, what do you want from me? You’re not leaving. We both know that. So why ruin a perfectly good lunch arguing about it?
G: I want to leave, though.
B: And I want Avril Lavigne to stop making music. But it’s not gonna happen and there’s nothing I can do about it. Same with you. We are good together. You might be able to find a better cook than me, but you won’t find someone who is as tolerant of the way you blow your nose as I am. We work, G. Don’t pick it apart. I love you, babe. And you have lettuce in your teeth.