Next Up: Polident and Metamucil

I'd tweaked my neck and the resulting muscle tightness was causing me a lot of discomfort and aggravation. While en route to the drug store I was on the phone with my older sister Chelsea.

Callie: I'm feeling all old and decrepit because I have to go buy a heating pad thing tonight to help keep my shoulder and neck from tightening up. Not an electric one like the kind you have—one of the disposable, adhesive kinds.

Chelsea: Oh yeah, that brand . . . Hey, wait! You just called me OLD AND DECREPIT!!

Callie: Whaaa? . . . (lightbulb goes on) . . . Oh my God, I DID! Bwahahahahahahaha!!!

I was laughing so hard I'm lucky I didn't drive across the center divider. Chelsea wasn't sure which was worse—that I called her old and decrepit, or that it was unintentional and evolved naturally from the course of our conversation.

Multi-generational Magical Mystery Tour

Jon and Alex have been exposed to a wide range of music, but the Rock Band video game has gotten Jon seriously hooked on at least one set of music legends.

Callie: Jon, who's your favorite band?

Jon (super excited): I love The Beatles! They're so cool! (His shoulders suddenly slump and his face gets sad.) But they're all dead.

Pops and Callie: WHAT?!!

Jon (perking back up): Is the girl still . . .

Pops and Callie: WHAT?!! The girl??!

Callie (thinking hard): Oh honey, Yoko Ono was married to John Lennon, but she was never a Beatle. And yes, she's still alive.

Jon (excitedly): So is John still . . . ?

Callie: Sorry honey, but he's dead.

Jon deflates once again, clearly bummed out.

Pops: Only two of them are dead—John Lennon and George Hamilton.

Callie: WHAT?!! Dad, George Hamilton's the actor with the orange spray tan. George Harrison's the Beatle.

Pops: There you go—George Harrison. He's dead.

Callie: Jon, Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney are still very much alive.

Jon (just about exploding with excitement): Paul's still alive! Cool!!

Not Exactly a Baller

Alex was very proud of making it onto his high school basketball team in his freshman year. Of course, he didn't get much playing time since he was low man on the totem pole. The basketball coaches were chatting with some parents one afternoon, and Alex was brought into the conversation.

Coach: And this is Alex, who just joined the team this year.

Parent: Good job Alex! So what position do you play?

Alex (with a knowing laugh): I'm a freshman—my position's "left bench."

Fine Young Cannibals

When I was no more than 7 or 8 years old, there was this one place in my hometown we used to drive by all the time en route to other places. The building had mission-style architecture and its sign had Spanish/Mexican-style tilework. Sometimes there'd be small crowds of nicely dressed people hanging around outside the main doors. To me, it seemed like it must be a pretty happenin' place, so as we drove by one evening, I asked my family about it.

Callie: How come we never go to that Mexican restaurant? It looks nice.

Mom: What restaurant are you talking about? There's no Mexican restaurant around here.

Callie (pointing): That one.

Mom (freaking out): Ayyyyyyy! Dios mio! That's Santos Robinson Mortuary!

Callie (totally confused as to why she's freaking out): It's . . . not a good restaurant?

Mom: Do you KNOW what MORTUARY means?

Callie: I thought he was Mr. Santos and Mr. Robinson's friend . . . who runs the restaurant with them?

And that was the night I found out that no, Virginia, there's no "Señor Mortuary."