Be sure to tell her I said hello.

I overheard a guy in a diner tell his friend that his wife was having difficulties: “…her joints flare up, she moans in her sleep, psoriasis, you know. She can barely move, life is just agony for her. She just found out her brother-in-law overdosed on heroin too.”
There is a silence, then, as the other man looks into his soup, he mutters, “Be sure to tell her I said hello.”

I imagine what happened next: the husband drives straight home, where he finds his wife curled up in the oven, twitching. He pulls her out, turns off the gas, and gives her the news: “My dear, Larry said hello”.
“Who is Larry!?”, she screams, as she rips scabs from her rear hips and throws them at her husband.
“Larry! The guy I used to work with at Five Below!”
“Oh Larry, right!”, she says. “The fella who installed our sink sprayer, right?”
“Yes, THAT Larry! THAT LARRY!”

She instantly brightens. “Larry said hi? Oh that’s… so wonderful.”
To her wardrobe she goes; she puts on her nicest dress and makes herself up all nice. Next stop: Harvard, where she gets a degree in mycology, top of her class, and cures her own itching. Her husband agrees to an open relationship, and she CAPITALIZES on that shit. Today you might know this woman as the greatest Greek-American columnists in the history of our time: the one and only, Arianna Huffington.