A walk among friends.

Miss Sniz and I walked the neighborhood today. Well, back up. It wasn't exactly the whole neighborhood. More like the cul-de-sac I live on. I couldn't venture further because I still needed to care for my kids. So we made laps on the cul-de-sac in the 30-some degree weather. The sunshine was deceiving, and we quickly discovered it was much colder than it appeared. Didn't help that the wind was blowing too.

So Miss Sniz needed a few more layers and let. me. tell. you., she came to the right house We Clampetts H's know how to dress. For scarf selection, I had a black and silver fuzzy thingy or a black wool scarf that, given the amount of lint it sported, might have come straight from the sheep (there was that one homeschool fieldtrip to a sheep farm last fall.) Sniz knows how to style it, so of course she went with the fuzzy thingy.

For head cover, it was all about the ears. Folks, I don't "do" hats because when you have Roseanna Roseanna Danna hair, you don't stick a hat on your head and then survive the humiliation of removing it later on. Curly haired gals, can I get an Amen? So, I had a lovely pair of black ear muffs on. Not wanting Sniz to feel underdressed next to me, I naturally offered her my royal back up pair.

Bright red.

Yes, all I had to offer was a pair of reaally bright red ear muffs (which I'm thinking would have went just swell with her lavender gloves). However, when I fetched them for her, I realized they were covered in baby spit. Brandon had apparently found them and used them as a chew toy teether. Normally, they wouldn't be available to him, but I had sat them out in anticipation of my kids playing outside while we walked.

Okay, so off we went, sporting some high falutin' outerwear accessories (because we're all sassy like that), determined to get our 30 minute power walk in in the cold. There were but a few setbacks, somewhat expected with littles playing outside within sight of us. First, we were but 5 or 6 houses down the street when I heard a bellowing, "MAMA!" from behind me. It was my 8yo wanting to know if she and Sniz's daughter could have gum. Okay then, it's 30-something degrees outside and my little Einstein thought it would be a good idea to run screaming coatless down the street after her power walking mama to get permission to eat gum. Hey, at least she sought permission.

Next, my 6yo son met us as we came back from the end of the street. He got in front of me and I put my arm on his back to adjust his poky pace to meet ours. Only, I occasionally forget this is a bad idea when a child has some motor coordination issues. Down he went, and came up tearful, thinking he might have skinned his knee. I spelled to Sniz, "He's going to F-R-E-A-K if he sees B-L-O-O-D." I prepared for the hysterics to come. Thankfully, nary a scratch. As we rounded the culdy and passed my house, Cierah, age 4, decided to set Indy pace with Franny and her baby stroller, pulling out directly in front of us. She was walking slow enough to reduce our pace, but fast enough that we couldn't seem to get by her.
"Mam, step out of the car." "Cierah, step aside for moment, honey."

And then there was the strange, grinning man who pulled over in his truck, rolled down his window and joked to Sniz and I, "You ladies are going to get dizzy walking around in cirles like that."
Huh??? Who the blivens was that? Sniz thought he might be my neighbor. Nope. I've never seen that grinning Chesser in my life. Odd.

Anyway, we finished walking and got to see our daughters sporting "Best friends" on their foreheads in permanent marker. Well okay, not exactly. It was permanent marker, but the words were written on clear Scotch tape. Brilliant "tattoos", don't you think? Why I didn't think to grab the camera, I'm not sure. I'm usually one to grab a quick shot of such sweet and simple moments.

And finally, in almost 18 years of marriage, I've only ever had to completely toss out a cooked meal once. I made a reaaaaally bad pot of pinto beans once and we just had to throw it out. And that "one failed dish" record has held for nearly 18 years.

Until today.

Today, I made a pot of chili before Sniz stopped by. I felt all proud of myself too, that I had prepared dinner early so I could focus on my battalion death march power walk with Sniz. Folks, it's clear to me now. I have genuine bean issues. This time, it was chili. The worst chili ever. I told Sniz, "It isn't very good," but Carl said it a bit more directly.

"BLECHHHHH!"
I do believe he actually wretched as he spit his bite into the kitchen sink and said, "That's na-sty."
And it was.
I was in denial until that moment but it was nasty. That is, unless you like your horse meat covered in beans and chili spices. Chili gone wild!

I'm happy to say Penn Station subs was a delicious plan B. Still, it's hard to watch your efforts literally go down the drain. But if we were meant to be a beanless people today, so be(an) it.

Toni

Clerk Patrol!

A test.
To work at the thrift store.
She was taking a test as a prerequisite to working there. Carl overheard a few questions.

"An item costs $9.50 and the customer gives you $20.50. How much change should you give back?"
You with me so far? They'll be making change on the job so let's see if some basic math skills are in place. Proceed.

"Now this next one's going to get tricky, so tune in. The customer gives you $11.25 and the purchase totals $21.30. How much change will you make? Careful. This is a tricky one."

You know, I have a solid education and I make responsible decisions most of the time. No, I'm not a candidate for Mensa but I'm no Chrissy Snow either. And I'm pretty sure my six year old would know the customer doesn't have enough money. Still, it comforts me to know our local thrift store hires only the best. ;)

Our local gas station, on the other hand, hires only the boldest. If I may...
Carl was paying for gas a few days ago. After sashaying back to the van with a dazed look on his face, he began.

"I never witnessed anything like that before."

I was already wondering what brought on such an expression, and now I was even more curious to know. He set it up for me.

"There's a young African American girl working the counter in there. A customer came in who appeared to be Mexican, spoke little English and with a very broken accent. He wanted to buy cigarettes and milk, and handed her a paper thin ID card."

Their conversation.

"I can't accept that. You need a valid state ID that shows you to be at least 35 years old."
"I have card."
"That's not a valid ID. I can't accept it. Do you have a state ID or driver license?"
"No. I buy smokes. I have card."
"Sir, I can't take that. It's,...what is that anyway? It's paper thin. It's definitely not a valid state ID or driver license."
"What you need?"
"I just told you. I need a state ID or driver license. They're much thicker, like this." (she whipped out a plastic card of some sort).
At this point, the customer said a few things in Spanish and a few things in English under his breath. The clerk responded by saying, "I'm not trying to be an %*&@% but I can't take that ID and I'm not about to lose my job over this."

The customer then used a tone and some foreign words that were clearly not nice, and accused the clerk of discriminating against him. This clearly made her very angry, because she shot back, "I. Don't. Care. If. You're. Black. Brown. Green. Or Yellow." And under her breath, "Don't make me come over this counter."

Oh no she dih-en't.

The customer then tossed a few expletives toward her and what happened next freaked Carl out.

She was no small girl.
She stood up, reached her hand over the counter with a big half circle motion, grabbed the customer's gallon of milk and barked,

"Okay, you need to get out of my store!"

Carl said she was very intimidating in her demeanor and the customer just basically put his tail between his legs and walked out. Carl has often dealt with some seriously irate customers of his own in the airline industry. Part of him (the sinful side he must surrender daily, lol) would love to get away with responding like that. I can totally see it.

"You need to step out of my ticket line. Don't make me come over this counter after you."

No, it will never happen because 1) he'd get fired and 2) he tends to avoid confrontation. I'm just saying. Btw, I could have easily told this story without mentioning nationality or race. However, it seemed relative to the story that the clerk was accused of discriminating. Her heated response told me she didn't appreciate the accusation at all.

And now, overheard in the H home recently.
-6yo Reece wants to go on a date with me to Joe's Crab Shack (please note there is a playground there and I'm sure that has NOTHING to do with his restaurant choice.) The two of us are seafood connoisseurs, while the rest of the family only tolerates it at best. So, he again mentioned today that sometime he's taking me on a date to JCS,..."but will you do the driving, Mommy?"

-Reece also acted up recently in a store, so I put back a spelling book he wanted and he pouted for the next 15 minutes (such a letter lover, lol). Anyway, he had a Wilson football in his hands this time. Again, he began his impish antics, so I warned him about his behavior. He answered, "I'll behave, Mommy." Determined not to lose his bounty again, he quickly added, "But this is coming home with us," as he laid down over the football.

-While praying for the Quechua Indian people this past week in homeschool, Reece wanted to lead the prayer. He gave us his requisite, "Bow heads," and began.
"Dear Lord, we lift up the....Mommy who are doze Indians again?"
"The Quechua, honey."
"Oh yeah....the Quechua Indian people. (pause, pause). Are they Indians, Momma?"
"Yes, Reece. They are Indian."
"Okay. They are Indians, Lord."
No doubt, God was glad Reece clarified that for Him, lol.

-Reece solved the following math equation with great disappointment.
7-2=5
He built it with manipulatives (math blocks), thinking the answer was going to be 6, but realizing it was 5. His response? A disappointed, "Oh man! I thought it was going to be my birthday on that one." He just turned 6 a few weeks ago.

-Cierah, age 4½ was playing on the floor with the baby, who was crawling all over her. "He's cute mom. And fun. He's cute and fun, but,...we can't dog pile on him, can we???"

-And finally, as you know, my kids were elfed this week. Well, we elfed my parents as well and emailed it to them. Olivia was not happy about it. "Mom, that might have not been a very nice thing to do. You made my Nana into an elf and she's already short. It might hurt her feelings."

Toni

My children have been elfed.

It's true! You'll find them here, pretty much shimmying like they would on any other given day.

Toni

Working up to a new blog

I'm trying to get Carl to start a blog. Now, hear me out on the title I've come up with for him, and back up a few (hundred) paces with me before I get to the big reveal.

Recently, I found myself sitting in "mandatory" unnecessary training classes for our adoption (g'head, wrap your brain cells around that for a minute; mandatory unnecessary). Anyhoo, during those 8 hour Saturday classes (which covered EXACTLY what we already trained for when we were licensed previously), I was given a packet of adoption paperwork to begin filling out. One paper included questions to be prepared to answer when the homestudy worker came out to interview us. One question in particular made me giggle.

It read, "Name one thing you would change about your spouse if you could."
HUH???
Now there was a day, know what I mean? A day where I could have whipped out my grown up Christmas list of things hoped for. But c'mon. After eight years of dating Carl, followed by 17½ years of marriage, plus growing in the knowledge of what Mark 10:7-8 means, the question truly seemed absurd to me. If I'm still pondering how to change him after all this time, there's got to be a chink in the armor somewhere.

So, Carl and I talked about this question and we did come up with an answer. It took some pondering, but okay, yes. YES! There is one thing I would change, and I was prepared to give the answer.

"Name one thing you would change about your spouse if you could?"

"I wish Carl would stop falling asleep in the chair every night while watching sports."

Yes, net pals, that's it, my marital thorn. It drives me batty. I have hounded him about this one sore spot for years.
His response?
Z-z-z-z!!!
I ask you, what is sooo difficult about acknowledging, "Hey, I'm tired. I think I'll turn off the t.v. and head off to bed."? Well, for whatever reason, Carl just cannot do that. Apparently, he's too busy sawing logs and catching Z's (and as Carl and I affectionately say when one of us plucks the other's nerve, "Still love ya, honey.")

Now then, the two of us do share the same quirky sense of humor, so we agreed that Carl has one lil' thing he'd change about me as well.

"Name one thing you would change about your spouse if you could."

"I wish my wife would quit nagging me about nodding off in the chair at night."

We thought our responses were quite comical. The social worker? Not so much, lol.
But the truth is, and to quote Forrest Gump, "We're like peas and carrots." We fit. We're one. And we found the "change your spouse" question, well,...silly.

And that brings me to Carl's blog. I want him to jump in. So far, he hasn't been moved to fire up the ol' digits on the keyboard. But today I tempted him just a bit more. Because today,...today I came up with a great title. Are you ready?

Narcoleptic Dad.
Living life's greatest moments one fragment at a time.

Isn't it perfect? He's certainly fodder for such a title and I know it won't be difficult to capture the perfect picture for his blog header.

Mark 10:7-8 (NIV)
For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.' So they are no longer two, but one.

Toni

Feisty's in the house.

When I worked as a cardiac RN, my favorite patient population was the elderly. For so many reasons.
They were often very grateful for your care of them and weren't shy about saying so.
They could have the sweetest sense of humor.
They generally were not fearful, so there was a peace about them.
They were wise and filled with wonderful stories from days gone by.
And when they were, on occasion, confused or combative, my heart was stirred to treat them with extra measures of dignity and grace. Hands down, I enjoyed caring for the elderly the most.

In fact, my daughter seems to have inherited this tender spot from me, as she is quite excited about her upcoming homeschool field trip to simply spend time with the elderly in a local nursing home. We're both looking forward to it and I know she'll be blessed by the residents as much as her youthful presence blesses them.

Now, all that being said, there is one other point that comes to mind when I recall my days as a nurse who loved her elderly patient population. Feisty! Some elderly folks can be terribly feisty. You really have no choice but to admire chutzpa when you see it all flared up and glowing in their eyes and, well, tonight I came face to face with Grannie Chutzpah herself.

We stopped at Arby's to grab some dinner. You would too if you had free milkshake coupons, right? (I'm a giver. Enjoy!) So anyway, we were headed for the entry door with our four children when we noticed Grannie slowly shuffling her way to the door from a bit farther away. Our kids love to hold a door for others, so they were pleased to help when we asked them to step aside and let Grannie pass first. Carl held the outer door and Olivia held the inside door.

Grannie? She never made eye contact. Never said thanks. I figured she was just cold. Or maybe just beyond her days of being interested in formalities. In any case, there was nary an acknowledgement that we had been first to the door but forfeited our spot so she could go first. And not only forfeited, but actually WAITED in the cold night air for her to shuffle hurry up and enter the restaurant. Nope. Grannie Chutzpah didn't seem to notice.

As I waited inside for my thoughtful doorstops to rejoin me, I fully intended to step back and let Grannie pass to order first. After all, there was only one of her and there were a half dozen of us H's.

Well, LET. ME. TELL. YOU.

The nanosecond Grannie passed through that second doorway, she could have been mistaken for a model on Meatloaf's Bat Out of Hell album from the 1970's. Folks, she TAZ'd by me in a dizzying fury, her pace so wild that I literally felt a drag of cold air as she passed and urgently told my peanut of a 6 year old to move "NOW!" He had been in her way and I wasn't sure just how far she'd stomp before reversing her engines. She'd have plowed right over him at the rate she was going. It seems she was on a serious bee line straight for the counter to place her order, no doubt panicking that my moderately sized family might beat her to the beef.

Carl was giggling at how frail and small she had seemed in the parking lot, and how TOTALLY FEISTY she became once she perceived she could beat us to the counter to place her order. And he laughed even harder when I swiped a ladybug off her shoulder and she turned and shot me a cold glare that said, "Tangle tails with me, sister. I dare ya." Shiver! She was poised to take me on, I tell you. Not to worry though, because I make it a policy to never rumble with feisty little grannies in public places. But truth be told? I think she could have taken me.

And now,...an OH-SO-FUNNY blast from the past. Turn up your speakers and, TRUST ME, you're going to laugh (I picture Grannie Chutzpah in this audio).

Toni

When it rains, it pours.

As I briefly mentioned in my last post, I was scheduled to meet up with a long time friend tomorrow, someone who personally knows the path God chose for us regarding family (adopting). We have shared so much over the years, from inexplicable joy to moments of genuine sorrow and loss. She's intelligent, very funny and just a really neat person to have connected with. And after all this, we were finally going to meet for a visit.

Enter dilemma #1. Brandon has had a drippy, stuffy "gunky" nose for the last day or so. So today, (one day before my scheduled visit with my friend), he was increasingly irritable and felt warm. I immediately called my friend to let her in on the details and to give her a "heads up" that I might need to cancel. I said I would reevaluate when Brandon got up from nap. Well, he woke without fever and seemed to basically be okay; playing, eating and changing channels for fun (yes, my baby has known how to use the remote for a month now; he's 11 months old.) I called her back and said we were still on, barring any unforeseen change in his status. She was very understanding.

Okay, so. Off we went to a homeschool theater production of A Christmas Carol this evening . Let me interject here and just say, a baby most definitely will not be entertained by a package of club crackers, a binkie, an empty bottle and the diaper bag's I.D. tag for two whole hours (ask me how I know.)

Well net pals, when it rains, it pours. Because we came home and began the bedtime routine with the kids when Carl noticed the house felt chilly.

Stand on chair. Check vent.
Huh, cold air.

Check thermostat.
Huh, set correctly.

Check room temp against programmed temp.
Huh, room temp is lower.

Check with 24 hour emergency service.
Huh, only $85 (just to get them to look at it tonight, that is).

Soooo,...here I sit at midnight, waiting for the heat doctor to overhaul our heating system.
And he's "got another job" to tend to first.
And it's a good half hour away.
And who knows how long it will take?
And Carl has to work at 8am.
And I had to cancel my long awaited date with a friend.
And I'll need to go throw extra blankets over my kids.
And if my nose gets any colder in here, I'm going to look like Mr. Snow Miser.



Is my glass still half full tonight? Oh, you betcha. But if God and the heat doctor don't hurry up and restore the heat in my house tonight, my glass just might be frozen over as well.
Not that I'm cold intolerant or anything.

A final note. Look carefully at Cold Miser's nose. Um, I do believe it was a lean year in the ol' budget department. That's actually the glass slipper from Cinderella's foot. They just broke the heel off and voila! The perfect Cold Miser nose. I also believe they used Dick Van Dyke as a model for creating Cold Miser, but what do I know?
update: Heat doc had bad news. Our compressor is shot. That part alone runs around $900 (not including labor). A new unit thingy (air conditioner/heat pump combo doo-hicky what'cha-ma-call-it) will run (gulp, gasp) well over $2,000. Um, that's two GRAND, net pals.
All together now...
"JOY TO THE WORLD!"

And now, if you want to laugh (which I realize you might need after this downer post), do check out my friend Jeanine's post over at Roots. Oh, you WILL laugh!!!

Toni

So, Max Lucado happened by today.

Well okay, sort of. I mean, he did happen by, but I wasn't there to see him. It was at the airport. At Carl's ticket counter. And I was ecstatic to hear this news.

"Whaa??? Max Lucado was at your ticket counter?"
"Yes. I didn't know who he was at first. Only that he was an author because I heard a coworker say so."
"Did you see him?"
"Uh huh."
"And did you come to realize who he was?"
"Uh huh."
"And..." (crescendo toward the big moment)"...did you let him know he's one of my most favorite Christian authors of all time?"
"Um,...no."

Toni adjusts knickers after getting them all in a twist.

"You mean, you didn't let him know what a huge fan I am?"
(struggling to draw breath while trying to pry Toni's hands from his wind pipe) "Nnnn-no."
"Oh. my. goodness. You know I have a g'zillion books of his. And you know I've read You Are Special to the kids at least a b'zillion times. And that story is one of my very favorites in the whole world to give another child as a gift. And...."
(cutting me off before I hyperventilate and pass out) "Hey! I scored you a Lisa Whelchel book when she flew out, didn't I?"
(swallows a tidbit of humble pie) "Oh yeah. I forgot."

And other meanderings I've wanted to share but have just been too crazy busy to get to:
-I was admiring a home for sale, so much so that I had a lil' faux paux. I um, took out a mailbox with the side of my van. Swell.
-I get to meet another Internet friend in two more days. This time, it's a long time adoptive mom friend from Cincinnati. We've communicated for years about adoption, our faith, and just life in general. It's high time we met and so, on Friday we're meeting half way between where we live. Can't wait.

And from the kiddie corner:
-Reece had AWANA tonight. He just turned 6 last week (yes, we had to brave the Big Rat and his house of Gouda again. Joy!) Anyway, he wanted to be all "big boy" tonight.
"I want to walk into class myself tonight, okay, mom?"
Me, sadly, "Okay, honey. I'll see you after class."
"Alright, mom," then flashing a broad smile and hesitating just a little,
"but....one thing first."
"What, sweetie?"
Tapping his lips ever so gently, "A little kiss."
I bent down and he gave me a sweet kiss before hurrying off into class. Does that boy know the way to his momma's heart or what?

-Olivia drooled over a stuffed dog that Carl won in a crane game. He won it as joke for me because I want a "foo foo dog" (a.k.a a Yorkie), but he'll have nothing of it. So, he won me a dog. And he couldn't give it to one of the kids because, well, there was only one and you know how diplomatic kids can be (rolls eyes).
Well, Olivia badgered me relentlessly about the stuffed dog.
"Can I have it, mom?"
"Sorry, honey. Daddy won it for me."
"When you're done with it, can I have it?"
"No, there's only one and the others would want it as well."
"Can he win me one next time?"
"Gee, I dunno. He doesn't play those games very often."
"When you pack it for Goodwill, can I have it?"
"Honey, let's not talk about the little dog anymore, k? It's just a little crane game prize and Daddy really only won it to try to be funny with mommy."
Ignoring the last comment (and all the comments prior), "When you're about to die, can I have it?"

OY VEY!

Toni

Tale Tail.

When my 6yo came in this morning in his footie pj's (a cuddly sight I can't resist), I gave him a big hug and a loving pat on his posterior. His response?

"What did you tap my tailfins for?"
Um, somebody's been watching one too many episodes of Sponge Bob.

Toni

As they say in AWANA...

"My friends for Christ." It's a great motto. I started my blog with a specific focus in mind; seeing my days as "glass half full"; not letting them slip by without taking the time to see the blessings amidst the burdens. A sense of humor goes a loooong way in guiding that focus, if you ask me (I know, I know. You didn't ask.)
I hope that those who read my blog are able to laugh with me (or, at me?), but also to share my faith with my friends (a la "My friends for Christ".) And now, my friends in Christ...

Becky over at Blessed with olive plants around my table has thoughtfully given me the following award:





This award originated with Dan King over at Management by God, who states, "Mathetes is the Greek word for disciple, and the role of the disciple (per the Great Commission) is to make more disciples. The role of a disciple of Christ is to carry His message to the ends of the earth. It is with this heart that I have created the Mathetes Award."

Those who receive it are to pass it on to other disciples who are sharing the good news in their own bloggity ways.

Here are the rules: Winners of this award to pass this on to five other "disciples". As you pass it on, I just ask that you mention and provide links for
(1)the originator of the award (Dan King of management by God), (2) the person that awarded it to you, and then (3) name the sites of those you believe are fulfilling the role of a disciple of Christ.

Now then, I'd like to give it to these precious 'disciples' who share the Lord in awesome ways on their blogs:
1)Miss Sniz.
2)Jeanine over at Roots.
3)Mayhem and Miracles
4)Sue at Praise and Coffee.
5)Missy at The Three Olivo's.
6)Rose at Starrs in Denver.
7)All Things Lucy
8)De at Just Another Day in Paradise.

Um,...I think I was supposed to only list five recipients. What can I say? I just couldn't resist sharing this award with all the bloggers above. If you want to tap into some great wisdom, faith, humor and insight, then by all means, MINGLE!

Toni

The adolescent prank revamped.

From Webster's;
noogie
Main Entry: noog·ie
Pronunciation: \nu-gē\
Function: noun
Etymology: origin unknown
Date: 1972
: the act of rubbing one's knuckles on a person's head so as to produce a mildly painful sensation


From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Wet Willie
Origin Mobile, AL
Alabama
United States
Genre(s) Southern rock
Years active 1970-current
Wet Willie is an American band from Mobile, Alabama, U.S. They were best known for their hit "Keep On Smilin'", but had a number of charted songs in the 1970s utilizing their soulful brand of Southern rock.

Um,....no. Wet Willie is not a band. At least not one that I listened to in the 70's (did I?). We all know it's a wet finger unexpectedly being stuck in your ear. Totally gross. Never gave one. Never got one. What a blessing to have escaped adolescence without it.

So, there's a new kid gag on the horizon. This one has to do with wedgies.
From Webster's;
wedgie
Main Entry: wedg·ie
Pronunciation: \ˈwe-jē\
Function: noun
Date: 1939
1 : a shoe having a wedge-shaped piece serving as the heel and joining the half sole to form a continuous flat undersurface
2 : the condition of having one's clothing wedged between the buttocks usually from having one's pants or underpants yanked up from behind as a prank —often used with get or give

Did you read that last line? Often used with get or give. Bahahahahaha!
Well, move over, Dino-wedgies, 'cause I'm here to tell ya, there's a new prank in town. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you.........

The RIP AWAY WEDGIE. Ut uh, I am not kidding. It was in the Enquirerer on Fox News this morning.
Do you think I could make this stuff up?
Seriously.
You can check it out here.
Never mind that our soldiers are risking their lives in Afghanistan and Iraq. Forget national security and unsecured borders. And who needs to worry about global warming when the RIP AWAY WEDGIE is on the horizon? I'm sorry, but some U.S. Americans don't even have maps and we're worried about RIP AWAY WEDGIES? Reeeeeally? Huh, because see, I'm just not following the urgent need for news coverage on this one.

And honestly, would you (even at age 12) want to carry a little piece of Jimmy Johnson's skid marks down the hall in your hand? (though I'm sure you could use that ripped away strip just like the flashing lights on an emergency vehicle, clearing a nice path to seventh period for yourself, classmates ducking away into lockers and open doors as you passed.)

And what about little Jimmy J? Would he ever live that down? Really, what kid is going to buy these things and wear them to school so some bully can pull out their business and use it as a revamped version of the noogie or the wet willie?

This just gives a whole new meaning to being worked over by a wet towel.

Can you just feel the humiliation and horror of it?
I sure can.
"Hey Nelson. I just slapped Masterson upside the head with Jimmy Johnson's rip cord."

Euwwwwwwwww!

But hey, it's worthy of national news so I figured you'd want to be in the know (*rolls eyes*).

Toni