Last night I went out with my friend S for Boobquake. We went to Diva Lounge in Davis Square and had some yummy appetizers. But mostly drinks...
I was telling her about my Man, and his crazy athleticism, and how I thought he might be a cyborg. She countered, brilliantly, by suggesting that he might be my own personal Terminator. So I texted him:
"So I just suggested to S that you are a cyborg because you're in great shape and she said maybe you're the Terminator, sent from the future to protect me. Thoughts?"
His reply:
"Yes. When I spray the cats at night, that's how I feel."
I'm so happy that I can make him feel like a super-strong-robot-protector-from-the-future...
Tonight I'm making chicken cordon bleu for him and my brother, so that should be pretty laid back. It's no Boobquake, but not everything I do can shake the earth... Right?
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