…the address of this apartment made me giggle.
How do you know you’re immature?
I know I’m immature, just from opening this thread.
Crap, I’m immature!
I tried so hard not to giggle or even crack a smile at the address, but I very quickly noticed the corners of my mouth turning upwards on their own. I was like, “Hey what are you doing? We’re a mature adult who sees nothing funny in that address of unfortunately combined last names.” Then my mouth broke out in some giggling after completely ignoring my mental speech.
Shit.
teehee
I wonder if the people who named the streets were giggling at the time they named them
Farts are still funny. They always will be as far as I’m concerned. Poop too, to some extent.
I’m immature, too.
But then, I already knew that. 
OK, I’m immature for the same reason.
My immediate retort to being called immature is: “I know you are but what am I”
This past weekend at the Deli, I patiently waited for the woman to call my number. When she said, “69” I replied, “that’s my lucky number”. A few other people waiting were as immature as I; giggling ensued.
I listen more intently just in the hope of being able to say, “That’s what she said!”
At an office staff meeting on Friday our manager mentioned that she would be re-shuffling some of our duties.
Heh. Heh.
Dooty. Doooooty.
I was prepared for me own inevitable internal reaction. What I was not prepared for was the fact that so many of my colleagues had the same reaction. OMFG, I thought we were all adults? Turns out: no.
Friday afternoon meetings are so rarely productive for some reason. 
This time, the reason was “duty.”
Heh.
SpouseO and I watched Pirate Radio over the weekend; good flick. One of the villains has an unfortunate last name (purposely so, I assume). They repeated it like 15 times, and I giggled like a schoolgirl every single time someone said something like, “Good idea, Twatt!” or “Twatt, I’ll have your job for this!”
Every. Single. Time.
I know I’m immature because I’m currently examining the blueprints for a massive trebuchet I’ve been slowly building over the last few years. I’ve got most of the materials scrounged up for the project but I’m having difficulty finding the lead plates for the twenty ton counterweight the plans call for.
Or maybe I’m immature because I just made up the whole thing about building a trebuchet.
Every time I watch the opening to Law & Order: SVU and the announcer says “heinous,” I think “heh. he said anus.”
I clicked that link because I knew it would make me giggle. It did.
… because I still giggle over the signs in this thread.
Oh I feel cheated. I knew of a street of this name when I was a child. When I learned the other “word” I never made the connection.
Still I count myself as one of the immature because occasionally I’ll do the “pull my finger” thing with my son.
When I started college, there was a place in town that sold kits to build dog pens. One of the first trips through town with my roommate, I saw the sign and said, “We should buy a can of red spray paint and put an ‘I’ in the word ‘PENS’ so it says ‘Portable Dog Penis For Sale’”. Well, lo and behold, someone eventually did it and we laughed our asses off.
I know I’m immature when, among other things, I laugh at the word dongle. Dongle - Wikipedia
Try sitting in a meeting with grown-up corporate types when security for these things is discussed. A collective snort is usually heard.
… and it’s in Inwood, too.