Tan Wrinkled Raisin

Before I get into the meat and potatoes of this blog post, I want to point out a few items of interest:

1. I am not writing this blog post at work. Shocking, I know. Believe it or not, work has been so busy, I simply haven't had time to write.
2. Ergo, I am at my next door neighbor's, which just so happens to be my younger brother.
3. I'm supposed to be helping the Man finish his online police application, but we ran out of ink so I sent him to Wal-Mart.
4. He forgot the debit card, so he returned from Wal-Mart with two orange Fantas instead.
5. I sent him back to Wal-Mart.
6. It's almost midnight on a Friday and I'm still awake. Make note of this.
7. The Man just walked in. Second trip = Success!
8. This is my 100th blog post. Ta-da!

And just in case you thought we were normal:

The Man [while laying in bed]: "I don't think I could ever retire. I would get bored."

Me: "Shoot, I can't wait til I retire."

The Man: "If you retired and I didn't, what would you do all day?"

Me: "I would lay by the pool, work on my tan, and drink mint juleps."

The Man: "You'd get all wrinkly. You'd be like a tan, wrinkly, raisin."

Me: [long silent stare]

The Man: "But you'd be my beautiful tan, wrinkly raisin."

Me: "Nice try."

The Man: "I'm sorry."

Me: "That's ok. You'll get saggy, you know."

The Man: "It's ok. They make a pill for that."

Me: [long silent stare] "That's not what I meant."

The Man: "They make pills for women, you know."

Me: "I'm going to bed."