H: I HATE {insert name of mean Higher Up here}!!
IRB: Makes sense. I hate anchovies.
H: Do you have nightmares about anchovies?
IRB: Not as such. I don't remember my dreams much.
H: I remember all of my dreams. Or most of them. Last night, I dreamt I was chatting with Michael Jackson. The night we all hung out, I had a dream you and I made out on a tire swing. Nice, huh?
IRB: Actually, it was a cab. And it wasn't a dream. Nice, huh?
H: *giggle* Yeah, it was.

----- later -----

IRB: .... my man boobs...
H: You do NOT have man boobs!!
IRB: I do too have man boobs. They're sexy. Recognize.
H: You're delusional. Besides, I don't trust men with boobs bigger than my own. So, you'd better get yourself a minimizing bra.
IRB: Well, they aren't that big. I'm working on them nonetheless.
H: I dunno, I'm not that busty. If you legitimately have man boobs, you might have me beat.
IRB: I guess we'll have to compare them sometime...

Indeed. Something wicked this way comes... and when it does, boy howdy, will it be fun.