What were the first words out of your mouth this morning?

My boyfriend just reminded me of this. Apparently, he’s been a little miffed at me today because of what I said this morning. I don’t remember it because I said it before I was quite awake, but it was a doozy…

Usually, the first thing I say every morning is, “Good morning, handsome.” But last night I dreamed that I was a man. Come to think of it, maybe I wasn’t a man, but anyway I had a man’s haircut. And I was trying to fix it, but it just wouldn’t look right, and boy was I mad! I even woke up cranky. According to him, this is what I said:

Me: “Could you please go in another room to do that? Christ.”
Him: “What am I doing?”
Me: “Breathing.”

I’m much better now, though, and so is he. So what was the first thing you said this morning?

“Whrrrr? No… I’ve been up. Since, uh, nine. I was just, uh, cleaning.”


Translation: Yes, I know it’s morning, give me a minute, please.

“This is not a hangover. I’m just dehydrated. Where’s the advil?”

You know, I haven’t actually spoken yet today. I’m about to go get something to eat, so that will necessitate speaking.

“Go lay down!!!” to my lovely Lab, Lucy. An hour later, I got up and told her she was a good girl.

“Go away, Havoc!”

It was past my usual Time of Arising, and the cats wanted their breakfast. The above was followed with, as usual, “Oh, all right. I’m up already!”

I call out “Girlie!”

That’s my little girl cat’s name. She’s been gone a month now, but I still say it every morning anyway. I’m sentimental. It’s the first thing I’ve said in the morning for a while now. Her thing was to lie in wait for me to come out of my room in the morning, and attack my ankles as I stagger upstairs to get coffee.

Right after I say “Girlie” and she ambushed me, I’d say “I’ll get you!” It was our morning routine.

it went something like this -
me: sobbing please just five more minutes, just dont let me fall asleep.

flatmate: how will I know when five minutes have past?

me: I dont care, i really really dont wanna get up.
I hate working weekends! Especially 7am on a saturday - it kills!

“Stop chewing on plastic bags! That is a good way to accidentally kill yourself, dammit!”

Apparently I was not getting up fast enough for the cats and they felt like since they were starving to death a plastic bag was a good substitute for food.

Ahhhh! ItchyitchyitchyitchygodIfrickinhatepoisionivyitchyitchyitchy

“err-bwa-wha? Yes” In response to “Will you come help me move the kids dresser?”

“so, um… what’s your name?”

“OK, Mom… later” in response to a request to sweep the garage in case one of my cousin’s wedding guests pops their head in there, which they have no business doing, but just in case they do. (My cousin is getting married in my folks’ back yard later this afternoon.)

“She made breakfast…? Now? - What time is it?”

I told my car radio to shut up just before changed the station. On Saturdays the public radio station here has this annoying doctor guy with a high-pitched, nasal voice. I can’t understand how someone with such an awful voice got into radio.

“You ate that whole loaf of bread last night?”

It was a small brown & serve wheat sesame loaf from Schwan’s and it was the main reason I even got out of bed – to slather some butter on a nice thick slice. It was all gone!

Husband’s response: “I did? It must have been pretty good.” :dubious:

To six-year-old son: “I don’t want a bag of Transformers in my bed.”

Go to sleep, Corbi.

Got up about 6:30 and I didn’t say anything this morning.

The first thing I said was ‘Hello?’ when the phone rang a bit after one o’clock.