possible loss of humor in transcription

Context, part the first: M. has been seeing a girl named Ashleigh, and for no good reason, I have been teasing him about the way she spells her name. Well, maybe for this reason: she's, like, eighteen or something. (Ok fine, she's twenty-seven. Same thing.) We also have a rich and storied history of assigning less than flattering nicknames to one another's flames/SO's, because we are besties and NO ONE IS EVER GOOD ENOUGH FOR MY BESTIE (and vice versa). Anyway, my new Text Joke That Never Dies is to similarly change the spelling of every word with a long e sound, because mockery. So for instance when she was at church the other day, I cracked wise about how At least she's close with her famileigh! And when he forwarded a pic of her in a room with questionable decor, it was She's cute, but her design skills leighve something to be desired. Etc, etc.

(This is the level of comedy you get, as one of my friends. Pick up your application at the post office.)

Context, part the second: I want to be delicate here, but the fact is, there've been a few guys lately expressing some interest in/paying some attention to me, in one fashion or another. And that, like, never happens. For real. So that's been the topic of some recent conversations with M. And I do not mean to even REMOTELY imply that there's some line around the block, but there has been a 300% (give or take) increase in the amount of Presumably Available Dudes Somewhat Into Ellie over the past few weeks. Anyway, that's context, part the second. 

Context, part the third: I've been making pasta sauce with some frequency* lately. 

So tonight, I'm just putzing around cleaning, cooking, not writing Coachella recaps - stuff like that, when M. texts.

M: So who did you spin the wheel and go on a date with tonight?

Me: Oh, you got jokes? That's very funneigh.


Me: This is my date tonight: (I take and send a pic of a bubbling saute pan on my stove, and the cutting board beside it.) ...THAT'S FRESH BASIL, BITCH. 

M: Why don't you branch out, Bataleigh?

Me: LOLOLOL ...IT'S CALLED RECIPE MASTERY**, OK? ...We only move on once when we've perfected.

M: That's why I had pop tarts earlier.  ....I'm officially over [my ex] btw. She's sitting twenty feet away from me, might as well be my mom.

Me: She's with what's his ugly?

M: Yeah, laughing it up like he's Chris Rock.

Me: Ugh. Are they showing off for you?

M: Yes. Total peacocking.

Me: Children.

M: I realize why I'm in love with my new haircut, btw.

Me: Oh?

M: The lady CHANGED my hairline. (Blogmistress's note: the only thing wrong with M.'s hairline is that, regarding the status of his hairline, his head - and therefore said hairline - is totally up his ass.) 

Me: Like, brought it forward with her artful shearing?***

M: Yes!! It's like a face lift.

Me: Dude, I want one. ...Does she do asses?


* Twice weekly, possibly more. 
** Not the reference some of you might think it is! The phrase just fit. Seriously. 
*** "Artful Shearing" is also the name of my as-yet unsigned ska band.