“Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining.”
“Well, I don't use the toilet much to pee in. I almost always pee in the yard or the garden, because I like to pee on my estate. ”
“You can watch me pee! It's okay! Here look, I'm peeing! I'm peeing! You can stop uprooting yourself.”
“Don’t spit down my back and tell me it’s raining.”
“We don't have intercourse anymore. I'm not complaining, it's my own fault. I lie there beside him and try to send signals to my vagina, but it's like trying to get cable channels on a Tv that doesn't have cable. My mind requests sex, but my vagina is just waiting for the next time it has to pee. It thinks its whole job in life is to pee.”
“Are you upset that you can’t stomp around like a caveman and pee on my leg?” I poked his shoulder. “I’m not a tree, Your Highness.”