Rob and I aren’t normal texters. Our messages tend to be unscrupulous, adventitious, and totally bizarre. We don’t actually accomplish much in the way of meaningful communication: words of affection, schedule checks, or attempts at coordination. Mostly, we talk about how badly we have to pee in various unfortunate situations, instances of strangers farting audibly, or—and this is, to us, the equivalent of a bald eagle sighting—to boast run-ins with the trifecta of gleaming excess that is the Buick hood ventilation system.
In summary:
Text sent on Aug 31, parking lot of Martin’s in Carytown:
They’re beautiful!
Dude, I know, right? So excessive.
Text sent on Oct 10, somewhere on I-64:
Good eye, buttercup.
Text received on Oct. 12, from OR:
You do realize those are probably… third generation models.
I think I saw a few wisps of steam but I can’t be sure.
So via this, we both know the other is doing well in his/her absence, things are good, and everyone is healthy and happy.
Chrome features speak louder than words.
-Carey
God I miss you guys!! Really.
I just laughed out loud at my desk! Love it!
SO funny, I just snorted tea right up my nose!
We seriously must be soul sisters. I do this exact thing with a few select people. Sister, Brother, Husband. Kazaaam.