I say no, but you'll get one anyway.

Him: Hey, which of these two snakes do you like better?

Me: The one that allows me to sleep without waking up stiff and with a backache.

Him: You like them?

Me: Will they fix my tub so I can take a shower again?

Him: They take payments...

I went to gasmart. I didn't even buy booze.

I have needs, babe!

When I IM and e-mail you, reminding you that the kids are out of the house and, well, I am...in need, the LAST thing I want to talk about is your plastic Dixie shit necessary for your rodents and snakes' water needs.

Then...

You don't lick me; I don't lick you. It's that simple. You get what you give out. Yes, I'm in the "what's in it for me" stage, which is a result of many years of marriage where I laid there and took it with just a mess for the trouble, because I wanted to keep you happy, even if you were too tired to reciprocate. Sorry, I'm done with that.

Yes, this is way TMI, but I doubt anyone reads this anyway.

Shit fuzzy fuck.