The first call into the campus switchboard this past Friday morning started out with:

“Your whipped cream is TERRIBLE!”

The operator tried to get some clarification, but instead got:

“You must have left it out all night!”

It was eventually determined that the caller was attempting to reach the coffee shop in the campus library and were then transferred.

Seriously, who starts off a phone call that way?

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Jim and I were recently in a noisy restaurant and got to talking about old game shows like $20,000 Pyramid and Password.   He leaned in to stage-whisper a clue to me:

“Moist,”

I leaned in and replied, but he clearly didn’t hear me.  Instead, he reared back and asked with shock, confusion, and perhaps a little horror.

“Did you say Rabbits?”  he asked.

Really confused as well, I responded.

“No, I said Brownies,”

We both nearly snorted with laughter trying to contain ourselves.

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On the way home from work, after a difficult day, I got stuck behind someone at a stop sign.  Their only option was a very safe right turn, but they lingered.

More than a little impatient, I mumbled some instructions to them that they couldn’t possibly hear. Normally, this would involve some obscure Ghostbusters reference like “The light is green, the trap is clean,” but that really only works at stoplights.

Instead, the clever bon mot I summoned was:

“It is red in colour, but not in intent,”

(Apparently, my subconscious is slightly British.)  

Roughly translated, I think I meant something about the stop sign’s color (or colour) is permanent, but shouldn’t be confused with a stoplight that will change and provide different information and instructions.

Or something.  It seemed really profound and clever to me at the time – so much that I wrote it down when I got home.  But I think I was really just tired and my brain wasn’t running at full power.

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I was talking to one of my female friends today and she said she had to check something on her phone.  She reached down the front of her top and pulled out her cell phone, glanced at it, then tucked it away again.

While I’m aware that women will occasionally carry items in their cleavage – especially if they don’t have a purse or clothing with pockets – the maneuver was so smooth and practiced it appeared like a magic trick.

I was a little agape, and half-way expected her to extract a rabbit next.   

Sadly, I lack the cleavage to perform a similar trick on my own. And it would not be appropriate to perform that trick on someone else, I’m certain.