I often get to that point about half way through writing the very first email in that chain, painstakingly crafting it in unambiguous phrasing which I’m 75% sure will still be misinterpreted.
“Now, look what happens when I go up the g-string…”
“Hi love, there was a clearance in the garden centre, and I might need your help when you come back home”
High school was rife with this theme - that and the “hundred breast” on swim team.
To be fair, the g-string is very easy to snap if you play with it overtightened.
Ouch. Both parts, ouch.
I’d better put on my collar. I’m going to be sitting next to faux leather pants!
(We have just discovered a set of magical beacons surrounding a high-value target, and we suspect they’ll be used to guide paratroopers.)
“So what I’m hearing is that we move these to surround the nearest bit of deep water.”
“Oh, so that’s the bow of the ship.” (In a game of Unfathomable)
I hope this lesson was learned in the process of failing some sort of objective.
“You should be good. I will knock if I need you. Or, if they kill me, you’ll find me eventually. And I won’t care, I’ll be dead.”
“Well, that went dark…”
-Me and my brother-in-law when he asked if I still needed his help with the kids.
“For some reason, God saw fit to provide me with an endless supply of toenails.”
After hearing the NZ anthem on Sunday morning (yes I taped the ABs v Springboks game, it was at 2AM local time), my 6 yo daughter goes:
“NZ is not a free land, you still have to do what your parents say”