The Tango of the Manatee

Last night Mr. H noted that his parents were in particularly chipper moods when he did the usual once-a-week speakerphone ordeal. "Ewwww," I said, "Maybe they just did it."

After many exclamations of disgust and some hearty cackling, he finally wheezed out his best Antonio Banderas: "They cannot contain their passions; it is all the fault of the tango!"

From my position flailing on the floor in weeping hysterics, I said "Ah yes, the mysterious, sensual tango of the heated hippo!" This was quickly amended to "Manatee," and now we can't stop laughing. We revisit this horrid trope every hour or so, and it shows no sign of getting old. God help us if we develop sound effects.



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In other news, we finally got our confounded marriage license. The most surprising part was at the end of the delicate dance between windows in the cavernous basement of city hall: we were handed a goodie bag. It contained samples of Downy, Pepto Bismol, a carpet spot remover, whitening toothpaste, and assorted coupons. So take heed, newlyweds are apparently prone to dyspepsia, halitosis, and spotty carpets! Apparently we should have registered for a Bissel steamer. Or a tarp. Or a hose-wielding zookeeper.

-xxoo

Posted 12:59 PM by Licketysplit