As I was swooning about sharing a book with tattoo boy last night (he has a Weimaraner, which he dresses in sweatshirts in the winter, and he was looking for something on the Noir website last night, and he took just as long to do his assignment as I did . . . and I get really picky on photoshop and will select pixel-by-pixel . . . and no, I don't mean to sound like he was slow . . . just careful, like I was . . . sigh.)
M2 looks up and says "Who?"
E2: "Tattoo boy"
M2: "Who is that?"
E2: "Remember the one that you said that you would have to tell Emily to stop talking to in a couple of months?"
M2: "Oh, that one."
Then other people in our party questioned M2 statement, to which she replied:
"Fine. I'll start sending her to you whenever she wants to talk. Because the things she talks about . . . it gives me nightmares."
"I give you nightmares?"
"Yes, nightmares."
Other person from party: "Well, maybe you should stop talking then."
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