Sometimes, funny happens.

Thanks, bro.

Chris: Let's get back tattoos.
Me: Depending on the location, these could be considered tramp stamps.
Chris: I want them across our shoulder blades. I'll get Jon, and you get Kate. But Kate will be crying.
Me: Like, lifesize?
Chris: I don't know about lifesize. But pretty big.
Chris: And below their faces, I can have the word "PLUS" and you can have "EIGHT." Then we'll stand side to side for the complete effect.
Me: In two years this tattoo will be mostly irrelevant, and ultimately a mistake.
Chris: But for those two years, we will have untold glory! GLORY!!

Me: I kinda wish they hadn't hung Saddam.
Chris: Hanged. And why?
Me: I miss him.
Chris: He was a devilish rogue.
Me: He was. But gosh he was funny. I quite miss his anecdotes at dinner.
Chris: Ah, yes. The cat-and-mouse game of wits, where first prize was your life.
Me: I was always a winner.
Me: He even gave me one of his prized, golden AK-47s.
Chris: I once ordered the summary execution of Tajikistan.
Me: The whole country?
Chris: He chuckled and said, "My dear Porter. One thing at a time." Then he shot his butler.

Chris: Ray said Thomas caught you watching porno on my computer.
Me: That is untrue. I was merely searching out a suitable wallpaper for your computer.
Me: Some of the images I found were questionable.
Chris: I see. Hang on while I kick Ray's ass for lying.
--- 5 min. later ---
Chris: Okay, he's done learning.
Me: Good.
Chris: He sure cries easy.
Me: Some people do. Especially when they're on the business end of a 2x4.
Chris: Or my fists, "Hitty" and "Sir Arthur Moore."
Me: I've not named mine.
Chris: "Gristle," and "Chris Porter Memorial Fist."

Chris: Item: Someone left a yellow in the toilet, and the weecake is missing from the urinal. What did you do with it?
Me: With what?
Chris: The weecake.
Me: I didn't do anything with it, honest.
Chris: You didn't eat it?
Me: Negative. I wizzed on it.
Me: Perhaps it was just it's time.
Chris: It seemed fine when I saw it last.
Me: Well, last time I checked, you were not a doctor.

Chris: Which photos you using, ho?
Me: Start over.
Chris: Ho: Which photos are you using?
Me: Third time's a charm...go.
Chris: Tell me which photos you're going to use, before I release a swarm of scorpions at you.
Me: 2 and 4b. Shit.

Me: Congratulations on your nephew making it this far. However, he still has a ways to go.
Chris: Very true. He has not yet proven himself.
Me: What would be some good developmental tests for him?
Chris: Giving him a pile of metal, some electrical wires, and a roll of tape. If he builds a mech battle-suit, he wins.
Me: And if he doesn't succeed?
Chris: Then his soul is mine.
Me: Fair enough.
Chris: Either that, or I get to re-name him.
Me: Oooh, that has the potential to REALLY teach him a lesson.
Chris: Right. Because I would name him Tyrannosaurus Quentin Porter.

Chris: Scenario: Would you rather own 1 (one) dinosaur, or take a trip to the moon?
Me: Depends on the type of dinosaur I guess.
Me: Dilophosauruses for example, are not desirable.
Chris: What type do you want?
Me: You know, I think I'll just take the trip to the moon, please.
Chris: Damn. You're the third moon-picker.
Me: Well c'mon! A dinosaur? Really?
Me: I don't think you've thought this through. A. Where are you going to keep it? B. What kind of dinosaur? C. How are you possibly going to feed it?
Chris: A. In the backyard. B. An Allosaurus, and C. Goats.
Me: How are you going to pay for the goats? What if the dinosaur gets sick? What if it hurts a guest? This is a huge liability.
Chris: You seem to forget that I can charge people $100 a head to see my Allosaurus.
Me: Well, ok. I'll grant you that.
Chris: I'll make a thousand dollars.