Last night I was catching up on “What Would Ryan Lochte Do?” because I can’t stop myself. I asked Casey how it felt to have his sport represented by Ryan Lochte. He thought about it for a long time and then texted his old teammate, Tyler, the same question. Tyler’s response:
“It’s rather like watching your own kid. In the back of your mind, you know he’s not the brightest one on the playground, but damned if anyone else is gonna say anything bad about him; you’re too proud, you don’t wanna hear it. At sixteen, you know he means well, so you give him pass after pass, despite the accumulation of completely totalled used Honda Accords (ie his morning show interviews) and ignore the whole D+ average at school (aka the quality of his Twitter feed and the horrific hashtag “#jeah”). He’s the only one we’ve got out there, so even as he embarrasses himself, we stand by him…cringing the whole way.”
In a separate conversation:
Casey: All our bowls are in the dishwasher, and they’re hot, so I can’t put my ice cream in any of them.
Me: Well, why don’t you use the bowl I just used?
Casey: Because you have cooties. So I’m going to put one of the clean bowls in the freezer for awhile.
Me: WOOOOOOOOOOW. OKAAAAAAAAY CASEY.
Casey: I’m just kidding. You don’t have cooties.
Me: WELL THEN WHY DON’T YOU USE MY F&*%ING BOWL?
Cooties are a sensitive subject around here.
I only curse recreationally, so don’t be mad about it.