Josh and I were at Ferrara's this evening enjoying a cup of the best (although quite expensive) hot chocolate around. While we were enjoying our dessert, the topic of my cousin's imminent marriage proposal came up.
I joked with Josh, saying that if he were to propose marriage, it wouldn't be one of those romantic to-dos like you see in the movies. He'd probably be in the bathroom doing a big number 2, or as he puts it, a number 8. Then he'd call for me and make me yell "WHAT??!" back at him. He'd probably ask for some toilet paper and say that if I bring the toilet paper to him, thus entering the biohazard area of his creation, we would get married.
The sad part of this conversation is not in my disgusting scatalogical humor.
We were discussing the bilateral and unilateral contract implications of such a transaction. See what I said about law school messing you up? You can't even enjoy good ol' toilet bowl humor anymore!
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