Well I would have loved to use the damn lift, if you would have made enough money to move us into a place that actually had one.
And you said you liked the wooded floors, said that the god-awful ugly rug that your so called friend gave us would look wonderful. Really, you would think that a gay man would know that purple paisley doesn't match tan curtains!
And while we're at it, could you stop leaving your dirty dishes in the sink and for the love of God put the seat on the toilet down when you are done.
You didn't need to move in with me to find the missing link dear, you could have just gone to a family reunion! Your uncle Dinky has to put his shoulder in a sling so his knuckles don't get all scraped up.
But that's just the kind of response I'd expect from you. All that bleach must have finally eaten through your scalp and reached your brain. Maybe you should just go back to that large short haired biker that you were so fond of. I hear she is out on parole now.
Bleach? I am a natural sun-kissed blonde! And if you must know, Uncle Dinky was a concert pianist and got his hands trapped in the grand piano just before the removal men arrived 2 years ago. Perhaps you'd like to talk about the suspiciously thin, green fellow I saw you having a one-sided conversation with in the basement last week.