[The Husband was putting away ice and noticed a leftover pie crust from Thanksgiving.]
HIM: "What should we do with the other pie crust?" ME: "Make a pie." HIM: [A LOOK] "Thank you, Wisenheimer. What kind of pie?" ME: "Eatin' pie." HIM: "It's not a pig."
I keep swearing to him I'm going to start blogging examples of us talking like dorks, so here's the first one. And now, a vintage one:
[Driving down the street, The Husband spots a mailman.]
HIM: "You know, you hit them, letters fly everywhere. Like feathers." ME: "Quit learning things from cartoons!"