Mark asked for a funny story about Josh. Unfortunately, I can’t really think about anything funny per se… unless you think it’s funny that he BACKED MY CAR INTO A PARKED CAR ACROSS THE STREET. I’m not bitter, really.

“How bad is it?”
“Oh, it’s fine. Just a little crack in the bumper.”

I go out there and this “crack” is more like a HOLE the size of a tennis ball!

“Oh! There’s a hole!”
“Oh yeah, and a hole. Sorry.”

Then he tells me today that he dropped his deodorant in the crevice between the sink and the wall. What does he use to try to grab at it? Oh, my straightening iron, of course! A perfect scissor-like device that was oh-too-handy for probing a dusty, buggy crevice. It performed dutifully, though, not noticing the difference between my brown hair and the brown bugs, helping him get the anti-perspirant nearly free when, *#(*%&! It fell again. So what did he do? Go without? Stop at CVS? Clean off my iron?

Of course not!
He used MY deodorant. (Strong enough for a man, right?) All the while his mini-travel deodorant was a foot and a half away on the dresser.

See? (As I scrub the toilet bowl with his toothbrush) Nothing funny here…