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Good Story, Bro

Funny blogs
Vinny and I spend a lot of time together and oftentimes we tell each other things that the other person simply doesn’t care about. When we don’t care, we respond accordingly.

Example:

Diana: Hey babe. I’m going to Walgreens to pick up some toilet paper.

Vinny: Good story, bro.

OR

Diana: I was a tomboy when I was little. Loved to play in dirt. Makes sense, right? But that’s why I love nature so much! And being dirty. Washing your hands is just so overrated.

Vinny: Good story, bro.

Followed by

Vinny: Don’t touch me.

We “good story, bro” each other and it’s usually a good time.¬†Except the most recent time. This is what happened.

Vinny walked into the living room where I was busy living and watching TV. He held one hand to his throat and wore a sad face.

Vinny: My throat hurts. I don’t feel well.

Diana: Good story, bro.

Wrong thing to say. Not because it was a fascinating story but because he wasn’t feeling well and it was my job to make him feel better. I quickly backtracked.

Diana: I’m sorry! Tell me more about your throat pain! I want to know.

It was too late. Vinny was over me being over his throat and was too busy ignoring me.

Fine. Whatever.

I got what I deserved anyway because now I’m sick. I sneezed four times this morning. IN A ROW.

The moral of this story is when your husband comes to tell you he doesn’t feel well, don’t talk. Just leave the room because talking spreads germs.

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