
You are pretty much the funniest person ever. That’s probably because you understand my humour so you say stuff you know I will laugh at.
I love that you cuddle my side of the bed when I get up for work. Or maybe I should be offended that you cuddle it only after I’ve left the bed.
It is amazing to watch you pretend to be a dinosaur.
I love that I can chase you around the house and always win because you have bad knees. I also love that you look like a dinosaur when you run.
I love that you are scared of midgets and that I can freak you out by simply watching the Little Couple. I also love the amount of rage you get when discussing whether little people should drive or not.
I even love when you fart, but mostly because we are 5 years old and laugh hysterically.
I love that you txt message me the status of your bowel movements.
I love that I can make you laugh hysterically just by laughing hysterically.
I love when you say words in Italian like you are from Naples and are 65 years old.
I love when you do a side part.
I love that there is white AND red in your beard.
I pretty much love everything about you.
Well, except when you talk, at length, about Scotch (that little bitch) and I have no choice but to sit there and listen to you.
“Yes, I sense a bit of peat to this one as well. Well, you know, it is an Islay. Oh is it, well that must be it. Yes, I’ve been on a bit of an Islay kick, but you know it is such a strong Scotch I think I need to mix it up a bit…”
But other then that, I pretty much love everything about you.