Conversation between my husband and me:
Victor: What the hell is this?
me: It’s a globe. It’s literally been there for years.
Victor: No. I mean the thing in front of the globe. The thing that looks like it wants to eat my face when I sleep.
me: Oh. That’s an antique alligator baby in a tutu.
me: My sister sent it to me. It’s like the white swan in that Natalie Portman ballerina movie. But with less bulimia.
Victor: And why – and I already regret asking - why doesn’t she have any hands?
me: My sister has hands.
Victor: The alligator. Why doesn’t the alligator have hands?
me: Oh. I think they were eaten off in a former life, but OMG…THAT’S THE BEST PART.
Victor: Not having any hands is the best part? I’m questioning all of your goals now.
me: No, the best part is that my sister sent me an alligator with no hands, and then the very next day…my parents sent me an alligator hand WITH NO BODY. I mean…what are the odds?
me: They found it at a flea market. See…IT’S A PURSE..
Victor: It’s a purse…MADE OUT OF A HAND.
me: And it’s awesome because vintage alligator skin purses are probably crazy expensive but they got it super cheap because I guess the vendor didn’t realize it was real alligator.
Victor: Or because IT’S A FUCKING HAND. YOU HAVE A HAND FOR A PURSE.
me: You should see the coin purse.
me: It’s half of a frog.
Victor: You need help. You and your whole family.
me: I think the real problem here is that you just don’t understand family dynamics.
Victor: No, I think the real problem is that that you have a hand for a purse.
me: It’s awesome because when I put my hand in the purse it becomes a really fucked up glove. I just need to find another one to have a matched set.
Victor: And that’s why you’re never allowed to go shopping alone again.