Best Internet Variety Show (and Good Luck Getting Anything Done, Ever) in 2005! 
"in other words, Anthony's about to get his Christmas present from Liz, and it's not a Chia Pet."
"I nominate "going home" as a new FOOB euphemism to use when "going roadside" seems too inelegant."
"I bet you are right and this is the last we see of Granthony and Liz until the engagement announcement. As far as I'm concerned, Granthony just proposed and Liz just accepted. This is as close as we are going to get to a "will you marry me?"
Just as many of us predicted- neither of these idiots are straightforward and honest enough to just come out and say what they really mean. They are going to meander and hint and thought-bubble their way through life together."
"I was about to complain about that, but then Anthony said something about wondering where life would take us next, and I was like, Duh, we're supposed to get married and have babies and live in Milborough forever and ever! but I didn't say that, I decided to give him a vague hint like a proper Patterson lady does, I said, "Let's go home, Anthony," because if we were sharing a home, we would obviously be married, and this was supposed to be a hint that he should marry me and make us a home, but instead Anthony thought it was permission for a booty call, and he said, "Yes, let's go home," and started up the car and drove us back to his house!!!, I was freaking out, as you know, if a Patterson or Richards woman Does It with a man, her special allure goes away and they never marry you, that happened with me and Eric and I am not letting it happen again!!!, I was totally freaking out the whole time we were driving back to his place, about how to keep Anthony from doing the sexy stuff with me, I remembered how Mom says it's best to wear ugly flannel nightgowns, and face cream at night, and complain about headaches or hot flashes or worries about the children or a malfunctioning sphincter, and scratch your ass a lot, and that keeps away the s-e-x, but I didn't know what to do, and Anthony's manly passions were so inflamed, he kept revving the engine on his station wagon and roaring, "I'm taking you HOOOOOOOME, baby!", and then Frenchy would wake up and whine and say stuff like, "Papa, could you please keep the decibel level below 100 when I am trying to enter REM sleep?" and Anthony would say, "Oh, I'm sorry Francie, Daddy just got his foot stuck under the accelerator and a few toes were amputated, I'm just bleeding to death up here, no worries, ha ha!" and then Frenchy would freak out like the little jerk she is and scream herself silly, until she fell back to sleep, and Anthony would gun the engine again and shout something like, "Papa's getting LAAAAAIIID!!!" and then Frenchy would wake up again and scream, and on and on it went."
"Okay, well, I promised to tell you more about what happened between me and Anthony, let's just say that he was very persistent, and I had to be very insistent about guarding my secondary virginity, well, finally, Anthony asked why I wouldn't let him "slip one past the goalie" (yes that's how he put it) and I explained to him it was a curse, if we did it before marriage, we would never walk down the aisle, well Anthony asked how far we were allowed to go, and I checked the handy little "Sexual Purity Guide" that the Johnston Institute puts out, and it turns out that premarital fondling of certain body parts normally kept hidden by underpants is okay, as long as the room is totally dark and it's just the woman doing the man, after all, a good woman does not experience s-e-x type pleasure, she just does it for the babies, anyway, it was awful, by morning my palms were rubbed raw, and Anthony was passed out across the bed sideways with his man-thing hanging out, and Frenchy came wandering down the hall, yelling for her daddy, turns out we were so wrapped up in our whole negotiation thing that we left her in the car seat last night and she spent the night in the garage which is fortunately attached to the house but is still cold as a refrigerator, she seems okay, just a little blue-ishy, but that went away after I plunked her down next to a heating vent before I left to go to the drugstore to buy salve for my hands, April, when you turn 18, you would be smart to just marry Gerald right away, so you don't have to go through years of this kind of agony, it is almost like some ugly old woman is drawing my "story" out to torture me."
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