In bed, discussing an... interesting... debate between Mr G and someone on a Facebook group that he's an admin on. By debate, I mean that a lunatic engaged with Mr G, and Mr G duly obliged...
Mr G: You know what, if they are actually able to read your private messages on these social networking sites, I bet that Martin Huckleburger is pissing himself laughing...
Me: What??? Who?
Mr G: Martin Huckleburger. The man who made Facebook.
Me: Er... Mark Zuckerberg?
Mr G: That's him.
Right. Because a twenty something billionaire has nothing better to do of an evening than trawl through private messages for shits and giggles...?
Adam has had sex education. I cannot repeat what was said there... not in print anyway. Somehow he managed to get Michael Jackson involved though. Don't. Ask.
Getting the washing in the other night before it rained, Mr G was smugly surveying his garden. He nodded towards the wooden planter that he'd scattered random seeds in.
Mr G: The flowers that will grow in there, are meant to attract cauliflowers.
Mr G: (quickly) Butterflies...
Talking with the children about all the acts we've seen live since we've been together...
Me: Jay Z. Kylie three times. Simply Red. The Beat.
Mr G: Cheryl Cole. (Sigh) Cheryl Cole...
Mr G: Incy Wincy Spider.
Me: Beg pardon?
Mr G: Incy Wincy Spider. Big Weekend?
Me: Tinie Tempah?
Mr G: That's him.
Adam and Ryan falling out spectacularly at the rugby a few months ago.
Adam: Ryan? I'll RKO you, you d*ckhead.
(I couldn't tell him off for laughing. I know you shouldn't, but it caught me off guard. I then had to Google what RKO was. And then laughed some more).
Ryan: Dad? Are tattoos like... paint? Or sewing?
Mr G: *snort*
Ryan: Are tattoos like paint, or sewing?
Cait: It's ink! Bellend! (storms off)
Mr G and I having a cuddle and a kiss in the kitchen. Ryan walks in.
Ryan: I don't like where this is going.
Asking Ryan whether he took French or German in school...
Me: Oh! We only took one in the first few years. Which language do you prefer? French or German?
Ryan: I don't know.
Me: Which one do you find easier?
Ryan: Probably German, because of all the Hitler memes.
Mr G: My eyelids are moving...
Mr G: My eyes are spinning...
Mr G: (completely randomly, out of the blue) Ha! That's something you've never heard. This Government talking about emigration.
Mr G: What? I didn't say anything.
Mr G: I'm going to bed.
Me: Ok. You go up. I'll just tidy up down here, lock up and I'll be up.
Five minutes later, Mr G appears in the hallway and scares me
Me: Jesus! You scared me. I thought you'd gone upstairs?
Mr G: I am.
Me: Er, clearly you're not?
Mr G: Where are my glasses?
Me: You're wearing them.
Mr G: Oh. I thought it was odd that I couldn't find them.
And a nice retro one for you all. A couple of years ago, my Dad, Mr G, my eldest son and I went to the cinema to watch The Inbetweeners Movie. Driving home, my father imparts this gem...
Dad: That'll be you in a few years, Dan. You and your mates abroad, in one of those froth discos
Me: Foam party, Dan. Foam party.
I'm surrounded by imbeciles :-)