Me: When I'm an old spinster and you find someone, will you still come play with me?
lazaefair: Of course. I will bring over my wee children for you to dandle on your knee. Or something.
Me: I can tell I'm getting tired because I feel one of my "I'm going to die alone" laments coming on.
lazaefair: Awww. You won't die alone. You're too much of a wonderful person.
Me: No, I think I'll spend my days quietly, knitting. With all my cats. So my days will last for about six hours, until my throat swells shut and I can't breath.
lazaefair: What happened to being a raging butch journalist, crusading for the rights of the downtrodden everywhere? You'll win Pulitzers and die gloriously while covering WWIII.
...which is probably why I find this so funny.