Ballz and Eye Crust.

You know how this goes. I sigh --

INT. KITCHEN - MORNING

I can feel the crust on my eyes. Blink, blink. That didn't work so well. As I rub the shiznit off my f-a-c-e, I see a Chef walk past with a Friend of his.

My eyes may not be workin' but my e-a-r-s are just fine.

Chef: "She is always with me. It's like she doesn't know what it means to be alone."
Friend: "I would say it's a Vietnamese thing but dude, my girlfriend is the same way. She always wants to spend time together. Even when I am taking a crap she wants to talk."
Chef: "What's also weird is her family never leaves the house when they visit. Someone is always around cooking or cleaning or on the phone, like her mom...or a cousin. I can barely breathe."
Friend: "Yeah, I know man."
Chef: "I love my wife, but she doesn't get personal space at all. I try and tell her I need alone time and she looks at me like I am crazy."
Silence . . .
Friend: "...well, are we crazy for not wanting to hang out with them all of the time?"
They stand there, seriously perplexed by the ridiculous question. And, if I wasn't so blind at the moment with sleep doo-doo, I would be able to see the concern in their eyes. Maybe for their manhood...or for the balls they used to have.