We're Headed Up My Mom's Ass!

Exasperated, she stopped on the stairs, sighed, and said "Fuck! It's like you're poison to this relationship. (Which really doesn't make much sense, you know, considering that poisons are external, or are they? Maybe I'm wrong and the analogy is apt anyway I'm too tired to debate it) You're a poison and an asshole."

To which I replied, "Do you mean like Brett Michaels or Bell Biv Devoe?"

My ear was ringing the next day from her fist.