Where does your cheese go?

My boyfriend is a stickler when it comes to the cheddar he purchases. He doesn't care if Lucerne is the cheaper option, he wants his Tillamook. I'm not sure what his cooking habits with cheese are when I'm not over, but when I'm there the cheese supply seems to dwindle quickly. I really like cheese. Usually when he's cooking something and using cheese (or even when he's NOT using cheese), he will appease my growling stomach while I wait by slicing off pieces and intermittently visiting the living room to feed them to me.

I can't say exactly in what manner it came about, but this process has led to me referring to my mouth as a cheese hole. It is not a tool with which to talk, or burp, or vomit, or even breathe. Those are just additions added on to the primary function of this gaping hole that takes up much of my face, consuming all manners of cheese.

The only time in which my cheese hole switches functions is around the holidays, in which it also takes on the added abilities of consuming, in vast quantities, pumpkin-flavored things, turkey, and potatoes. Hopefully at least one of those things is accompanied by a layer of cheese.

EW.

So in case you didn't know, I'm a college student who is GLADLY graduating very soon, as in weeks from now. The boyfriend, Tim, has fortunately been my cheerleader the past few terms, convincing me to not to just quit and give up as my urgent case of senioritis sets in. Usually these conversations happen when I'm visiting him in Seattle and have to go back home in a day or two.

Me: -heavy sigh- "Can't I just quit school and live in your closet forever?"

Tim: "STAY ON TARGET!"

Yeah. I know his arguments aren't exactly the most revolutionary, but he's my boyfriend and I'm really not all that keen to waste my parents' thousands of dollars despite how painful school can be for me.

Anyway, one day while I was wallowing over how much I did NOT want to be there, I texted Tim and in an attempt to make myself feel better about spending money to sit in rooms where I had to be quiet and pay attention to things I didn't care about anymore, I asked him if it made me sexier now that I'm going to have a college degree.

Our conversation went something like this

Tim: "So sexy! So sexy that I want to HUMP YOUR BRAIN!"

Me: "Awww... I guess that's okay, just don't get yourself too excited and make a mess everywhere."

Tim: "HAH Brain jizz."

Me: "Be careful with that, we might end up with brain babies!"

Tim: "Eww...."

Me: "What, brain jizz is okay but brain babies aren't?"

Tim: "Babies are GROSS."

Guess I'm never having children, at least not until I can give birth to fully grown adults. Because, as a wise man once said, "babies are GROSS."

Intro: Messy Intertubes

I'm funny. I mean... sometimes I'm funny. To some people. I'm not funny enough to make the entirety of the internet implode with laughter, but I wish I could despite how messy that'd be for the janitorial community. They'd near some serious form of Ultra Draino to get out all that laughter clogging up the intertubes.

Anyway, I occasionally have a few entertaining ideas, mostly crazy ass shit that is created through conversations between my boyfriend and I. Enjoy our weirdness, because I swear someone else has got to think this crap is amusing... right?