Kris and I are in bed watching a movie. We have a small window air conditioner, but without good air circulation, it's not as effective as it could be. We've turned off the fan so we can hear the movie, but are sweating through it. Kris is used to it, he is usually internally too hot, but now even I am uncomfortable.
ME: It's HOT.
KRIS: Oh good I'm glad you think so. I thought you were going to tell me I was crazy like usual.
ME: No, it's effing gross in here. No more movies in bed, it's too long to go without proper temperature control.
The movie has ended, the fan has been turned on, and the room has cooled down. I am playing solitaire on my phone because I'M AN ADDICT. Kris is trying to sleep.
ME: I should go to sleep. I wish I could stop playing this.
KRIS: I wish I had a lot more fans blowing on me.
ME: (sigh) I'm going to get you a ladder for our anniversary.
KRIS: (leaning away from the INCREDIBLY LOUD FAN whose noise I greatly resent) What?
ME: I said, I'm going to get you a ladder for our anniversary.
KRIS: To what end?
ME: So you can GET OVER IT.
I'm sleeping on the couch.
ME: No honey, I'm sorry. I'm kidding. I know you're hot.
KRIS: Not that. That joke was BAD.
You be the judge. Awesome? Painful? Or, as ever, painfully awesome?
ETA: Another apt conversation from the same night that demonstrates the same quality.
ME: I knew you were reluctant to watch Slumdog Millionaire because you didn't think it could be as good as I said it was.
KRIS: I was reluctant because everyone said that. But I was wrong.
ME: Well I was one of those people and I was right so you know you can always listen to me.
KRIS: Oh yeah, Sahara was a cinematic masterpiece.
ME: IT WAS.