MPSIMS to be sure, and pretty silly, but I just had to share.
So I’m in my study on the Internet, and Barb’s watching Animal Planet on TV in the living room. We’re already well aware the acoustics in this house are awful – a horse whinnying in the pasture 20 feet back of the bathroom sounds like it’s standing at the back door, and the neighbor closing the door on his truck 50 feet beyond my study sounds like he’s at our front door, 20 feet in the other direction.
So Barb calls out to me, “No prophylactic yet!”
And I’m thinking, “What?!?! We haven’t said the word ‘prophylactic’ to each other in 25 years, and in nothing we’ve talked about in a week would that information make the slightest whit of sense.”
So I call back, “Whaddaya mean? What are you talking about?”
And she comes to the study door and says, “Just what I said: 'No. Pope. Elected. Yet.”
…Oh.
Just got back from Walgreen’s, where my daughter asked me if I’d tried the Chopped Up Flamingo flavor of Gatorade. I didn’t think it was impossible. Gatorade has many stupid flavor names. But it was just Tropical Mango. Boooring.
The other day my roommate announced that he was going to make a castration post. I called out to my teenaged son that oh boy was he in trouble now. Turns out it was a cat-scratching post.
Tickle your ass with a feather?
When my husband was a boy, he was watching football with his dad, who said something about someone “talking to the coaches in the press box.” His mom misheard and said in disbelief, “Coach Ivan Breadbox???”
So now that’s what we say when this happens to us (daily, since we’re all pert near deef and cain’t hear good).
Was watching the 2004 Battlestar Galactica reboot on Netflix. For those unfamiliar with the show, the relevant info to this story is that a human and “robot” were having a child (and the two sides were at war…sort of a Montague/Capulet romance). The pregnancy’s “bloodwork had anomalies” and everyone became worried about the ensuing child – would he/she be normal? Weird? Kill us all? What will this baby be???
Finally a decision is made to draw more fetal blood. The chief scientist has the pregnant robot down on the table, covered a bit for modesty. As onlookers wait nervously, he looks at the beeping monitors, readies a syringe, examines the patient again, and then says,
"You may have a Shar Pei."
WHAT? I ran it back again with the sound turned up.
"You may have a Shar Pei."
That’s clearly what he said. Now, to be fair, Dr. Baltar is something of a mumbler. But no wonder everyone’s worried about the baby! Talk about designer breeds – a human/robot crossing produces a Shar Pei?
I ran it back AGAIN and turned on closed captioning.
“You may have a sharp pain,” the caption reveals, as Dr. Baltar leans toward the patient holding the syringe.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOh.