(Or of receiving catastrophic news)
"oh, by the end of March, first week of April, at the latest. No worries."
"When was your last one?"
"February 1st or 2nd. Why?"
"You're waiting for the other shoe to drop?!?! I've got a shoe for you right here! And I'm about to drop it in your ass!!"
"If I'm asleep all the time, it will probably change it's mind and go away, right? Ok, how bout this. You can be ecstatic, as long as I get to take more naps. And eat more Dibs."
"My life is over, and I'm a bad person."
"No, it isn't and no you're not. You just feel like this because you are wallowing in the depths of despair for the time being."
"I'm not really in the depths of despair."
"I know. You're just splashing around in the shallow end. Bobbing for apples of despair."
"I switched my Netflix mailing address to your PO Box."
"Wow. That's like, a big sign of commitment."
"Yeah. Cause letting your frogspawn gnaw on my liver for nine months is nothing. It's really all about the Netflix."
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