Go where?

I saw a car the other day with a license plate that read:

C  NT  GO

I can only assume that this means “See (person with the initials) NT go.”  Or maybe “Can’t go?”  Doesn’t matter.  When I saw this, three of the letters jumped off the plate and pulsated at me like one of those old Warner Brother cartoons.   And I giggled out loud.

Let’s just say that these people should be glad I’m not their neighbor.  I would always be just 2 beers and a permanent marker away from filling in the blank.

MP

Steve’s spot

They might as well. . .

An instant messenger conversation at work

You know you have conversations JUST LIKE THIS at work. . .

Meghan: OMG

Peter: WHAT?

Meghan: New guy has weird nasal issues and (name withheld)’s unnecessarily long phone conversations make me crazy!

Meghan: I NEED A CEILING!

Peter: What, is he a loogie swallower?

Meghan: Wierd, short sniffles.

Peter: Like he has a flaky booger on the outer rim of his left nostril and he uses short, staccato sniffle bursts in an effort to dislodge and suck it back into booger circulation?

Meghan: YES!

Peter: I’m sorry, but that was some of my best writing EVER!

Peter: I’m still fuckin laughing over here

Peter: “booger circulation”

Meghan: That was good.

Peter: I know it’s not cool to laugh at your own jokes, but damn girl, I am ON today!!!!

MP

How high do you have to be to watch SNL these days?

Laser cats?  Seriously?!  No wonder they are running so many “best of” specials lately.

MP

Black, green. . .whatever.

MP

Fashion me a strap for my ice bag, please.

It’s a little unusual to be knocked over by a medium-sized dog.  But to have it happen twice is pretty amazing.  This most recent incident was worth the price of admission.

Steve has a girlfriend.  Her name is Lucy.  Every time we let Steve out, he will run over to the side of the yard that faces her house and look for signs that she is outside or near a window.  For shits and giggles, sometimes we will egg him on by saying, “Steve, where’s Lucy?”  He will instantly dart across the street and run up to her porch and look in the windows on either side of her front door to look for her.  If he doesn’t see her, he checks the garage.  This routine never fails.  Then he looks back at us for direction.  For further amusement, we will continue to encourage him, saying, “Where’s Lucy, Steve?  Where is she?”

On several occasions, Joel and Nicole have been watching TV when they suddenly get the feeling they are being watched, only to look over and see Steve’s face in the window.  Since they adore him, they always open the door and let him play with Lucy for awhile.  Tonight Steve did not want to leave their house.  So to get him to come home, I called to him and ran back toward my house, coaxing him to chase me.  Which he did.  As I reached my driveway, I stopped and turned around to see Steve barrelling toward me, sheer excitement on his face.  He ran right into me and I fell, hitting my head on the driveway–HARD.  It bounced off of the pavement like a super ball.  Ouch.

My response to the situation was to lay there and scream for Andy, who had already gone inside.  Convinced I’d cracked my skull open, I was afraid to move.  He came out, peeled me off of the pavement walked me inside.  After I got over the shock, we decided I would be okay.  Just a big old lump on the back of my head that needed some ice.

I have this sweet old-fashioned ice pack with little martinis all over it that makes having boo-boos a little less unpleasant.  The problem is, the lump is on the back of my head and the ice pack will not stay on by itself.  I have homework to do.  So I ask my husband, who claims to love me, to fashion me a strap that I can tie under my chin to keep the ice pack on my head while I study.  He refuses, and instead suggests that I put a pair of his underpants on my head to secure the ice pack. 

Underpants. 

MP