The kids are watching "Dragon Tales"; I call them away for breakfast just as Max and Emmi are finishing their little dragon scale rhyme.
The Girl: EWWWWWW! GROSS!
The Boy and me: ?
TG: I don wanna fy with dagons in a lan uv BARF!
Phone call with the Ex:
Ex: You need somebody extremely smart.
Me: I would settle for middling smart, even, at this point.
Ex: Well, I think he's gonna hafta be smart.
Ex: And I would say, pretty refined.
Me: Well, I don't know. I mean, I don't want somebody who's going to be going all esoteric on me all the time.
Ex: You know what you need? You need to date...
Me: A professor.
Ex: That's exactly what I was thinking!
Me: It'd do.
Ex: How old?
Me: I'm wide open. Any birthdate between 1960 and 1978.
Me: I told you, I'm approaching desperation here!
Ex: That's like, what, how old is that?
Me: Ten years. That's the most I could stand.
Ex: What, you want to get them right out of college?
Me: SHUT UP! I said that was the Outer Limit. It isn't my preference!!
Ex: I think it's a little young, though.
Me: Well, so do I, I'm just saying that--HEY! Pot calling Kettle!!
Ex: I'd say somewhere between 40 and 45.
Me: That would certainly be my preference, but I'm like the choosy beggar here, dude.
Ex: An accent would be pretty good. Like maybe a British accent.
Me: Oh, sure, why not. Throw that in.
Ex: Like Hugh Grant.
Me: ??!! Hugh Grant?? Dear god, no. Try Collin Firth.
Ex: Who's that?
Me: You know, from Nanny McFee.
Ex: Oh, no way! He's a wus. Even Hugh Grant knocked him out.
Me: Shut up! He's a total sweetie! I am NOT dating Hugh Grant. Yuck!
Ex: No, you need a fighter.
Me: Uh, I think not. I can fight for myself, thanks. What I need is somebody who isn't all stressed out all the time.
Ex: Good luck with that.
Me: Yeah, yeah, I know.
Ex: All right, I'm on it.
Me: Good. Go. Find.