Pin-interest

I have said in the past that Jeremy is a Russian spy.

There are too many factors that all come together that prove this to be the case.

Like the fact that he makes up words.

And the fact that no matter how many times I say it, he still calls it "Pin-interest."

"Anything new on Pin-interest?" He asks, looking eagarly over my shoulder and breathing into my ear in that hot-breathy way that bothers most American humans.

"It's PINTEREST," I say slowly and emphatically.

"PInINterest?" He attempts.

"P I N T E R E S T." I say between clenched teeth. Not in an angry way, mind you. I'm just enunciating so his Russian brain can assimilate the information.

"PINinTErEST." He tries again.

"P I N T E R E S T!" I exclaim.

"Whatever...OOo, an oatmeal cream pie recipe!" He exclaims in return.

*I click "repin"*

"I thought you didn't like oatmeal cream pies?" He queries.

"I do," I reply blandly. "It's a secret obsession."

He looks down at me appraisingly.

"Really?"

"No."

Although...it really is a secret obession. But don't tell him that.