Bernie Cheavers and The Dun Dun Chiefs

This week, I just have a few observations. There isn’t any discernable cohesion to these thoughts, so bear with me as I get some things off my chest.

First, I have mixed feelings when I learn my wife’s nickname for me means “hot potato” in broken Spanish. It’s highly descriptive, and partially randy, but confusing and possibly a bilingual oxymoron.

Then, there is AC/DC, the band. Does ‘dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap’ sound like ‘Bernie Cheavers and the dun dun chiefs’ to anyone else or just my daughter? I blame my sister and, of course, big old Chad and Delilah, who we don’t want to carry us too far away. We don’t want the big old jet airliner to do that either.

I’d also like to point out that ordering the unborn at a restaurant might be a bit over the top, even if you’re talking about eggs. Asking to have the unborn scrambled is also right out. Lines have to be drawn. Don’t even ask how I know this.

Finally, I’d prefer any reference to juice coming out of my dog’s leaky rear be withheld until I finish my actual juice or, well, forever. I could go a lifetime without contemplating the contents of that fishy liquid or its proper nomenclature. I just want somebody to clean it off the bed before she licks it up.