Archive of ‘Sketch Comedy’ category

Him vs. Me: The Conversation That Says It All.

My husband and I are very, very different people. He worries about money, I worry about people. He has his feet firmly on the ground, I prefer to live in the clouds. He tends to be a bit of a pessimist, I try to be optimistic (although I sometimes fail). He deals in practicalities, I prefer the currency of dreams.

Here’s how those differences shake out in real life.

BRRRING, BBRRRING (the phone rings).

HIM(sounding unhappy): Hello?

ME: Hi! Are you on your way?

HIM: Yeah, but…

ME: But what? Are you going to be late? Because I don’t want to be The Parents Who Are Late on her second day at a new school…

HIM: No, no. I’m already halfway there.

ME: Oh. Then what’s the matter?

HIM: The car just made a really weird noise.

ME: Your car always makes weird noises. What’s the problem?

HIM: This one was bad. It sounded like something was crunching and grinding up things  inside the engine.

ME: Oh. Is it still making it?

HIM: No. In fact, all the noises are gone.

ME: They’re gone? That’s awesome! Why are you upset?

HIM: I think you’re missing the point.

ME: What point am I missing? Your car made an awful noise and then the noises disappeared. That rocks!

HIM: I think there’s something really wrong with the car.

ME: I think the car’s all better.

HIM: I think we should probably take it to the mechanic tonight.

ME: What? Why would we do that? What are we going to say—Uhh, my car stopped making noises, I need you to figure out why? They’ll look at us crazy.

HIM: No they won’t. It’s acting really weird. I’m worried something big is about to fall off the car.

ME: Are you sure you’re not overreacting?

HIM: I don’t think so. I have a feeling something really expensive needs to be fixed.

ME: Oh. Well worst comes to worst, you’ll get a new car.

HIM: This one only has 50,000 miles on it!

ME: Yeah, but it’s being held together with duct tape and rust.

HIM: We can’t afford a new car.

ME: We can’t afford a vacation either. But we’re going!

HIM (Sighing): You’re hopeless.

ME: And you’re a bummer. Love you anyway!

….And that’s how our marriage works. For the record, the noises are back, the car’s going in the shop—and we’re still going on vacation. And now Brian’s researching car noises on the Internet while I look for swimsuits. Somehow,  it all works out in the end.

An Unrecognized Masterpiece.

It’s day two of the Back to Blogging event over at The SITS Girls. And today, I’m re-posting an old favorite—one that didn’t get the appropriate amount of love the first time around. So without further ado, I give you…

A Visit With A Little Green Monster.

One evening not too terribly long ago, I sat snuggled up on the couch with a nice glass of wine when an unexpected visitor plopped down next to me.

LITTLE GREEN MONSTER: Hey, whatcha drinking there?

ME: Wine.

MONSTER: Out of a plastic cup?

ME: The good glasses are in the dishwasher. And besides, who cares? It tastes the same no matter what you drink it out of.

MONSTER: I dunno. It just seems a little pathetic. I’ll bet Melissa never drinks wine out of dixie cups.

ME: How would you know?

MONSTER: I’m just guessing. But a little birdy told me she has a cleaning service come in twice a week, so there’s probably no shortage of clean glasses.

ME: A  maid? Well…good for her. She works hard. She deserves it.

MONSTER: Just like Tabitha deserved that European vacation, right? Just months after her Jamaican escape?

ME: Yes. Exactly like that.

MONSTER: Hey, did you hear about Jeremy’s new job?

ME: No. He got a new job? That’s great. Where at?

MONSTER: I don’t remember the agency. But he’s already hard at work concepting a Super Bowl commercial for next year.

ME: Him? A Super Bowl commercial? But I’m ten times as talented as he is. That conceited ha-(PAUSES AND BREATHES DEEPLY). I mean…how awesome. I’m sure he’ll do great.

MONSTER: Yep. He’s got it made. Kinda like Cindy.

ME: Cindy?

MONSTER: You didn’t know? She met a millionaire on the set of that reality TV show she was doing. Now they’re getting married and moving to Hawaii. I hear there’s already a bun in the oven, if you know what I’m sayin’.

ME (MUTTERING): We’ll see how much he likes her when she’s carrying 25 pounds of baby weight two years from now….

MONSTER: What was that?

ME: Ummmm, nothing. Nothing at all. Just wondering what I should get them for a wedding gift.

MONSTER: Not sure. Maybe you should go in with Jackie on something.

ME: You’re right, I should. I haven’t talked to her since she had her baby. It’d be a good excuse to give her a call.

MONSTER: Well, if you decide to get together, meet somewhere that’s not too crowded. Otherwise you won’t recognize her.

ME: What are you talking about? Of course I will – I’ve known her for 15 years!

MONSTER: Yeah, but you’ve never seen her this thin. She’s down to a size two now.

ME: What? But her baby’s only five months old. How is that possible?

MONSTER: When Paramount bought the rights to that book she wrote, she figured she better slim down before Hollywood came calling.

ME: She’s got a movie deal? But that’s not fair! She’s not even a real writer—she just did it to pass the time while she was on bed rest. I’ve been writing since the third grade, and what do I have to show for it?

MONSTER: An ulcer and a mountain of debt?


MONSTER: Hey, where you going?

ME: To the store. I need some more wine.

MONSTER: Well, you’ll have to walk. Your car’s in the shop, remember?

ME: Go away. I hate you!

MONSTER: Aaaaand my job here is done. Enjoy the rest of your evening.

ME (THROWING PILLOW AT MONSTER’S BACK): Enjoy your spot in hell!


This post makes me giggle, plain and simple. I often fall victim to that little green monster, for the most ridiculous of reasons. Of course, I was indulging in a fair amount of hyperbole here, but y’all know what I mean. And plus, I love me some sketch comedy. Think it’s too late to become an SNL writer? Just smile and nod—I don’t need my dreams crushed today.

Back to Blogging is sponsored by  Standards of Excellence, Westar Kitchen and Bath, and Florida Builder Appliances.

A Running Conversation.

I’m two weeks from completing the Couch To 5K program, but getting here hasn’t been easy. Every time I go out, I have some version of the following conversation.

MOTIVATED ME: Alright, Tori’s in bed. You ready? It’s time to go for a run!

LAZY ME: Again? Didn’t we just do that like..two days ago?

MM: Yes.  And now we’re going again. But farther this time!

LM: Farther? Are you trying to kill me?

MM: Just the opposite, actually.

CUT to ME walking briskly up the street. We hear a ding, then a deep male voice says “run.”

LM: Owww, this already hurts. I think I’m getting a shin splint. Can we go home now?

MM: No. We just started. Shut up and run.

LM: But. I. Don’t. Want. To. Do. This.

MM: Tell you what. Just come with me down to the bottom of the hill and back. If you’re still hating life when we make it back here, we can go home.

LM: Fine. But that’s it.

CUT to ME running up the hill.

LM: Hey, did you see that rabbit? Aww, he’s so cute!

MM: MmmHmmm.

LM: Is that bird yelling at us? I think he is. SHUT UP, little bird, you don’t own this field!

MM:  Hey, would you look at that, we ran right past the entrance to our street.

LM: We did? I guess we can keep going then. But just until we get to the Bastard Hill. I don’t want to deal with that sucker today.

MM: Fine.

Cut to ME running up Bastard Hill.

LM: This. Hurts. Can’t. Breathe.

MM: Yeah, but we’re halfway there now. A little further and then it’ll be all downhill.

LM: But if we turn around, it’ll be downhill right now!

MM: Look. That old lady up there is doing it. If she can do it, so can we.

LM: Ummm, she’s in a scooter.

MM: All the same…let’s see if we can pass her!

LM: You’re insane, you know that? Insane!

CUT to me slogging slowly toward home.

LM: Let’s stop. I’m tired. Don’t want to do this anymore.

MM: Oh, come on. There’s only…four minutes and thirty four seconds left.

LM: Don’t. Care. Wanna stop now.

MM: Just keep going for another two minutes. Then we can quit.

LM: Bitch.

Two minutes later…

LM: There. We did two minutes. Can we stop now?

MM: But there’s only two minutes and twenty six seconds left! You can do anything for two minutes and twenty six seconds.

LM: No. No, I can’t.

MM: Just run to that mailbox up there. Then we can quit.

LM: Fine. To the mailbox.

Two minutes after that…

LM: There’s the mailbox! We did it!

MM: Oh, come on, there’s only twenty seconds left…

LM: I hate you, you know that? I really, really hate you.

Another soft ding is heard, along with a deep male voice saying, “walk.”

MM: See! I told you we could do it!

LM: As soon as I can breathe again, I’m going to kick the crap out of you…

MM: Oh, come on. It feels good. Admit it.

LM: Sitting on the couch feels better…

MM: And now you can! Guilt free!

LM: Can I have some ice cream?

M: Now you’re pushing it.

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