He said she said the true meanings

• He said she said the true meanings by frostillicus123 on 15 Dec, 2007 04:45
• “She” has been in the bathroom for close to three hours getting ready for her best friend's Christmas party. “He” is not thrilled about going and is waiting impatiently. He would much rather play poker and drink with his buddies, or sit on the couch drinking while watching sports, or nail his scrotum to a cactus. 
   
  *HS = He says   SS = She says
  *HM = He means   SM = She means
  
  HS: Honey, what time are we supposed to get there?
  HM: In the amount of time it has taken you to pick an outfit, do your hair and put on makeup, I could have sculpted a life-sized replica of Michaelangelo’s David.
  
  SS: They’re expecting everyone at around 8:30 – 9:00
  SM: We’ll be arriving just after nine -- so you don’t have enough time to get ridiculously drunk and completely embarrass me. Yet again.
  
  HS: I’m just gonna mix up a quick drink, you want one?
  HM: I need to start snorting over-proof rum to make this nightmare remotely tolerable. Oh yeah, I’m going to be waaaay too stinking drunk to drive home.
  
  SS: No thanks, I’ll just be another minute and then we can go.
  SM: You can’t wait thirty minutes to have a drink, you lush bastard. I guess I’m driving home again. Thanks. Inconsiderate dickhead. 
  
  HS: I’ll drive us there, are you okay with driving home tonight?
  HM: Within minutes of leaving the party, there is a good chance I will be passed out and drooling on the dashboard.
  
  SS: I don’t mind driving, just do me a favour and don’t get too hammered.
  SM: So help me god, if you start knocking things over, swearing and insulting people again, you’re walking home.
  
  HS: Don’t worry, I’m only going to have a few. I have some things to do tomorrow and I don’t want to be super hungover.
  HM: I may set the record tonight for free booze consumed in an hour. Thank god my day tomorrow consists of lying on the couch, watching football and eating.
  
  SS: I’m not sure about these jeans, do they look ok?
  SM: Do you really love me, or do you wish I were a swimsuit model? I know, you think I’m a fat pig and you hate me.
  
  HS: Yeah, those jeans look good on you.
  HM: You look like a fat pig and I hate you. They make your ass look like an over-stuffed bratwurst. Not that I care, because I’m going to be too drunk to have sex tonight anyway.
  
  SS: Ok, sweety, I think I have everything, are you ready to go?
  SM: Why the hell do you not have your shoes and jacket on, and why isn’t the car warmed up? Jesus you’re useless.
  
  HS: One second dear, the game almost over. Thirty seconds left.
  HM: Hold your horses. I had to wait while you equaled the amount of make-up used in Night Of The Living Dead. There are 30 seconds left in the game, which in the NBA will last about 10 minutes, or just enough time to throw down three more vodka Red Bulls.
  
  HS: Hey, which bottle of wine are you going to bring for them?
  HM: You better not even think of giving away anything decent. I suggest a steaming hot bottle of horse urine.
  
  SS: Just one of the Merlot’s. We still have three or four bottles left in the wine rack.
  SM: It is fifteen bucks, you cheap jerk. If I left it up to you, we’d show up with a half-eaten Snickers bar.
  
  HS: So who’s all going to be there tonight?
  HM: Please god, tell me your curly-headed blonde friend with the massive rack and under-ripe peach-shaped bum was invited.
  
  SS: I’m not really sure; I haven’t talked to Sarah in a while.
  SM: Don’t worry jerk, even if Jenine and her huge fake tits aren’t there, I’m sure you’ll find another of my friends to gawk and stare inappropriately at whenever they bend over. Disgusting pig.
  
  HS: Ok, let’s roll. I’m looking forward to seeing all your friends again.
  HM: I am praying for a head-on collision with a snow plow. I would rather freeze to death in a ditch than spend 5 minutes with those wankers you call friends. Save me, sweet alcohol: you’re my only hope.
  
  SS: I know, I can hardly wait.
  SM: I can hardly wait to be humiliated by a drunken circus animal in a wrinkled dress shirt. Just try not to throw up on the Christmas tree this year, dipshit...
  
• #1 by froze on 17 Dec, 2007 12:01
• Funny stuff right there!