Actual conversation held in the LadyBug living room last weekend:
Deputy Dad: [watching the Masters golf tournament on TV]
LadyBug: [trying to figure out a way to keep from clawing my eyes out]
LB: It kind of sucks that the caddies have to wear the golfers’ names on their backs.
DD: [Grunts to make me think he might be listening, and to remind me that he is oh-so-thoroughly engrossed in the television.]
LB: I mean, it’s like he’s Tiger’s bitch or something.
DD: [finally turning to look at me] HUH?
LB: [Ah HA! I have his attention now!] Well, look at him, walking around with Tiger’s name on the back of his little jumpsuit. Doesn’t he look like he’s Tiger’s bitch?
DD: [suddenly very defensive. (This means I’m winning.)] He’s NOT Tiger’s bitch. Stop saying that.
LB: Well, he LOOKS like he is. I feel sorry for him.
DD: Feel sorry for…? Do you have any idea how much money those caddies make?
LB: [giving him that look that says, “Was that a stupid question? Of COURSE I don’t know.”]
DD: Those guys make anywhere from 10-15-20 percent of the winnings!
LB: [not giving in. not one bit. he’s thoroughly distracted now. teehee] Well, that kind of sucks for the caddy of the guy who comes in last place. I mean 10 percent of a buck-twenty-nine just ain’t worth being somebody’s bitch.
DD: [completely ignoring the “bitch” remark. also temporarily forgetting about the golf game.] Baby, this is the Masters Tournament. They are playing for big money here. Even the last place guy gets, like, twenty thousand dollars. [I’m actually not sure if he said “twenty thousand.” I wasn’t listening that closely, because I was trying not to giggle.]
LB: So, you’re saying…you’d totally be Tiger’s bitch, if the price was right.
DD: [finally giving in, because, come on, he never stood a chance] [sighing] Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.