Textual Feeling: See The Type of Bullshit I Have To Deal With

it's been awhile since i've spotlighted the worthless textual conversations i have with b.  
so without further ado:
**while imbibing at the bar**
me: i made a new best friend in the bathroom.
b: whose your new bestie?  is she cute and single?
me: her name is emily.  and i don't know.
b: so how did you two meet?
me: we peed in tandem.  and then i pointed out that her ID and money fell onto the floor and she declared her love for me.
b: that's cute.  you could make a lifetime movie out of that story.
me: i'd watch it.
b: i'd put it on.  when i wanted to take a nap.
me: wow, i'd like to think my lifetime movie wouldn't be sure a bore.
b: as a series, no.  but that one might be a snoozer.  mainly because i'm not in that one.
me: fine, i'll make sure you miss the one with the lesbian action in it.
b: fuck that.  i will set my dvr for it.  that would be the one i wait all season for.
me: i will hack in and clear it.  then remove every other airing of that episode.
b: dream on.  you aren't that ambitious.
me: or smart.
recently i made the mistake of leaving a conversation about serial killers to go to the bathroom and when i came back the conversation had shifted to adoption.  
i'll never make that mistake again.
the following conversation occurred during said terrible conversation:
me: i'm going to blow my fucking brains out.  this conversation is slowly killing me.
b: please don't do that tonight.  at least let me video tape it for research purposes.
me: what's there to research?
b: brains may look cool splattered on the wall.  it could be saleable artwork.
me: oh, good call.  what would you call that piece of art?  "the cunt."
b: "cunt for brains."
b: it's really a working title.
me: i like it.
and in case you're offended and/or don't like filthy language here's a picture of my cute-ish, idiot dog fighting a sleep attack.

i hope we're even.