Overstepping Their Bounds...

Tufts University bans nookie if roomie ‘is present’

Dorm rooms doubling as steamy love huts have Tufts University throwing cold water on sex on campus - at least when horny students let it all hang out in front of red-faced roommates.

“You may not engage in sexual activity while your roommate is present in the room,” tuts Tufts’ 2009-10 guest policy, newly revised in response to student gripes about rambunctious roomies and their raunchy romps.

(Pardon the title; it was taken directly from that paragon of reporting acumen, the Boston Herald...)

This is an outrage! No sexual relations with your roommate present? What if your roommate is of the extraordinarily thick persuasion and can't take the hint that he needs to get the hell out ASAP? What if they're an usually heavy sleeper and don't notice? Where's the challenge in trying to score while your roommate sleeps in the top bunk?

Or, as Mrs. G. opined, this *is* MA - what if you're sleeping with your roommate?

That is all.

Chickens Roosting, Yadda Yadda Yadda...

So, The Boy has discovered boogers. Specifically, he's discovered that:

a) his nostrils produce them; and
b) he can terrify his little sister with them.

**Sigh**

There are days I will pick up the phone, dial my parents' house, hear my mother answer, say nothing more than "Hi mom. Just wanted to say I'm sorry." and she knows what I mean. I'm a big brother - a "big bother" as my little sister used to say (hell, still does sometimes). At family get-togethers, even now as grown adults with mortgages and car payments, I can still make her duck and scream by holding my hands so as to mimic having a rubber band ready to fling at her.

The Boy never stood a chance.

So, when "MOOOOOOM! [The Boy] is picking his nose AGAIN" reverberates through our household like the clarion call of Gabriel's trumpet, we know that failing to step in will result in several minutes of "EWWWWWW!" "[The Boy] STOOOOOP!!!" and the ever-popular "HE'S PICKING HIS NOSE *AGAIN*!"

It's cosmic karmic payback. Every last mucus-filled second. There's got to be some sort of "booger gene" encoded on the "Y" chromosome and absent on the second "X". I figure another 148,000 screams of "HE'STOUCHINGMEWITHHISFINGER" and I'm even with my mom.

Which, naturally, means that my mailbox only has to explode another 87 times before I'm square with the universe.

That is all.

Unusual...

Ever notice when you blow your nose really hard, you can't hold in a fart? I mean a real, loud, nasty-smelling emanation of sulphurous proportions that normally would cause you to clench your sphincter closed so tight you could convert charcoal to diamond?

Nah, me neither.

That is all.