Our living room, last night.
The players:
1. Me, on the couch in my underwear watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on ABC Family, passed out due to massive amounts of Mexican food and red wine; possibly drooling... I am attractive.
2. Brian, coming in to find me in said position.
The time:
Evening. Harry Potter is nearly over.
Brian: “You know, it seems like a lot of work to get Harry into this tournament and try to make him win. Wouldn’t it be a lot easier if Voldermort just made a portkey out of one of his Playboys or something?”
Wouldn’t it indeed.
In an unrelated note, he also asked the following:
“You know its 10:30, right? What are you going to do when school starts and you can’t just sleep all the time?”
To which I responded, “I don’t know WHAT you are talking about,” rolled over, mumbled something else about ice cream and/or kittens and drooled some more.
In an unrelated (but still related to the first note) note, Daniel Radcliffe’s hair was seriously JANKED UP in HP4.
Disclaimer: Brian is a great fan of all the Harry Potter books (after I brought him into civilized society by making him read them last year). Don’t send him hate mail for allegedly not appreciating J. K. Rowling’s genius.
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