...and dude, the Ab Ripper? Vicious. Totally vicious.
Paul Gilles, Age 30: Say that again. Please. It’s not that I didn’t understand the component pieces; at least, I could figure most of them out from contextual clues, but all put together, like: Does Not Compute.
Paul Gilles, Age 40: Okay. I was just saying that if I did a session of P90X®, the activity points generated thereby would totally cover the extra serving of Tofurkey and dressing on my online Weight Watchers® PointsPlus® Tracker.
PG30: Do I become a total nozzle all at once, or is it like frog-boiling?
PG40: It’s the latter, although the basis for the metaphor doesn’t work. The frog will jump out of the water.
PG30: Oh.
PG40: At the point at which, say, the environment becomes uncomfortable or untenable enough, the frog will take steps to change its environment. By, say, getting the fuck out of the pot. Amphibians are capable of that.
PG30: Oh.
PG40: Not to come off all superior. At least, no more than I can help.
PG30: It’s cool. Maybe I’ll just drink us to death instead.
PG40: Good luck with that.
PG30: What? You don’t think I can? Think I won’t?
PG40: I know you can’t. I think you’ll try, and I think you’ll fail.
PG30: Fuck you.
PG40: Hah! Awesome comeback. I’m your future, and all you can say is fuck you?
PG30: I’m going to get a tattoo that says “I’m a huge dick” on our forehead.
PG40: With what, exactly? Those cost money.
PG30: Alright. Fair enough. Tell me this, though: are you happy?
PG40: Most days, very much so.
PG30: Huh. Damn. I don’t know whether that’s a good or bad thing.
PG40: It’s okay. You’ll figure it out. And weigh like 30 pounds less.
PG30: That’s cool.
PG40: Right?
