A few weeks or so ago, my girlfriend and I engaged in a conversation similar to this:
Me: Woot! Woot! Weekend! Someone put some drink in my drink.
Danielle: You know you don’t have to drink just because it’s the weekend.
Me: I know, but I want to.
Danielle: That’s a strong sign of alcoholism.
Me: More like fun-oholism.
Danielle: So you need to drink to have fun?
Me: No, but it helps.
Danielle: Well, can’t you just drink, but not get drunk.
Danielle: Because you could just drink a few beers instead of splitting a 30-pack between you and Tim or competing in 5th races.
Me: Competition is healthy.
Danielle: Tell that to your liver.
Me: You tell that.. to .. my liver.
Then being the mature adult that I am, I stuck my tongue out at her.
Since then I have been trying to find an unhealthy habit of Danielle’s to call her out on, and just the other day I found the jack-pot of all bad habits. She loves to read! So I waited until the opportunity presented itself to criticize her and when it did the following conversation occurred:
Danielle: I just finished my second book this week.
Me: Really? Two books in one week.
Danielle: Yeah, I enjoyed them both.
Me: You know, there are other things to do for enjoyment besides reading.
Danielle: I know, but before I go to bed I usually read about 80 pages or so.
Danielle: Yeah, sometimes more.
Me: Would it hurt to just read a page or two every night? Cut back a little.
Danielle: Well, that’d make it take forever to finish a book.
Me: It’d also be a lot healthier.
Danielle: Reading is actually really good for you.
Me: Yeah, tell that to your straining eyes!
I then fled the room as Danielle sat with a confused look on her face, only to pop back in and say, “You have your books, I have my beer, no ones perfect!”