Me: Waxing on and on about running and taking care of his knee and family medical histories and on and on and on as his eyes glaze over and he has that internal conversation with himself that goes something like 'I quit smoking and stopped keeping the cooler of beer next to the left side of the couch when I met her, DID I NOT, what more does this girl want from me?!'
Andrew: Go on. You just keep it up...
Me: Blank look.
Andrew: If you keep taking such good care of me you're going to be stuck with me until I'm, like, 102 or something.
Me: Good point, Wood. Good point.