I brought home a half-gallon of ice cream from the grocery store. The list from my wife read, “four bananas.” Period. No milk, no eggs, no ice cream. Just bananas.
Normally, to me four bananas means four bananas, but I didn’t write the note. My wife wrote it and I was sure ice cream was hiding in there somewhere. Read the rest of this article »

Let’s call her Muffy. The cat, not your girlfriend. Why Muffy? It just seems like a good name for an utterly repugnant creature. The cat, not your girlfriend.

She hisses at you. She swipes at you if you try to pet her. She hops up on the coffee table to block your view of that fourth-and-inches play. When you’re getting into it hot and heavy with your girlfriend, she climbs between you. You’re pretty sure she’s saving that special hair for your next pizza slice, and you’re pretty sure it comes from the least desirable of body areas. Read the rest of this article »