Grace: Did you like it?
Mom: I did! A lot! But, Honey, doesn't it bother you that it's above a liquor store?
Grace: Um...no. I actually like that.
Mom: The bedrooms are sort of small. Do you think you may outgrow them?
Grace: I think I stopped growing when I was in my late teens, Mom.
Mom: That's not exactly what I mean.
Grace: Well, if I get sick of it, I can paint it, or redecorate it.
Mom: Again, that's not what I mean.
Grace: What DO you mean? Spit it out.
Mom: Well, your father and I want to know what are the chances you'll find someone to live in this place with you within the next five years? Like in a romantic sense.
Me: (blink)...(blink,blink)...(blank stare)...(blink)...(blink)...I have to pee.