I found rice in a riceless place....

Driving home, a storm was rolling in the distance and James was staring aptly at the distant flashes of lightening.

Me: Sweetie, I have a question.

James: Yes, lovie? Hey loook! Lightening...

Me: Why was the rice in the dryer?

James: Well. It's a long story.

Me: Okay...

James: I wanted to protect it.

Me: You wanted to protect....the rice. So you put it in the...dryer?

James: I bug bombed the house, and I wanted to protect the rice.

Me: So you put it in the DRYER?! The entire bag?!

James: I couldn't think of a better way to keep it safe.

Me: You couldn't close the bag? Or find a clip? OR anything besides putting it in a dryer that isn't air tight?

James: It's air tight. I checked.

Me [closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose]: We have to throw the rice away, sweetie.

James: Jessa. No. Of all the things I would protect the most, I would protect our rice. You know me. 

Me: I'm concerned that you would protect rice over...say...me, our car...our legal documents....

James: Our car would be worthless without rice. Ooooohh...thunder and lightening.

The rest of the ride was spent listening to James making farting noises after each flash of lightening and laughing hysterically at his own noise. 
In other news...I need to buy more rice.

I don't even know how to title this one...

After working in the woodshop all night and dancing to Justin Bieber smashing my hand with a hammer, James and I decided to stop by the road and watch a massive thundercloud roll in over a field.

James: I’ll bet this storm cloud is scaring the hell out of those cows. I know I’d be scared.

[I laugh]

James: I’d be like “Holy me!  I can’t even open my umbrella. I’m like the dumbest cow ever.”

Me: “Holy me”? 

James: Yeah, cause I’m a cow. Hey…a shooting star.

Me: Remember the first time we saw one together?

James: Yeah. I was 24 before I saw my first shooting star. I didn’t know stars could get that small.

Me: ....what?

James: Wait…are they not stars?

Me: Um. No. Stars are huge balls of gas in the sky. The closest one to us is also called The Sun.

James: Oh. I think I knew that.

Me: Shooting stars are actually pieces of meteorite. 

James: Stop ruining this for me.

Me: It's kind of like space junk.

James: I want one to hit me in the face.

Me: No, you don’t.

James: Hell yes I do! Hit me right in the face…while I’m in an airplane!

Me: Hand me the water, will you?

[We sit in silence for a moment, watching the lightening strike through dark clouds]

Me: Isn’t that beautiful?

James: It looks like Satan’s butthole.

Me: How….what?

James: He has to be mad about something eternally, right? I’d be mad if I had lighting shooting out of my butthole continuously.

[I start laughing and almost fall off the hood of the car]

James: I’ll bet Satan’s butthole is sad and constipated.

Me: Do you hear what you are saying?

James: No. I just fell asleep a little bit.