Another bit of brain candy, but more like the sugar-free butterscotch your Great Aunt Stella always forces on you, because she hates it too.

WARNING:  You may need to access dictionary.com and have an open (read "warped") mind to understand this one.

So, Jim & I are semi-addicted to Words With Friends.  If you like word games, then you should try it.  If you don't, well I promise not to make fun of you because you're not as nerdy, cool as we are.

Anyway.  So, we're playing a game of Words as usual.  Now we both have some unusual words sometimes, but about half-way through I started thinking this particular game is just getting a little bit weird.  See for yourself.

So, you all see it too, right?  Suave, zeal, hamulate, abomasi?  Don't tell me you don't see it.  Well, I did and felt compelled to send Jim the following Skype to clear things up once and for all.

Me: Geez.  Let me just say this now.  No matter how suave you are and how much zeal you use to try to persuade me, there is not a djin on this earth that can persuade me to have Nazi sex with you tonight.  I don't care how many abomasi you offer either.  Oh, and if you try this with one of our lessees, our contract will be demitted and some goon will work you over so bad your hamulate penis will never fit in my canoe again.

Jim:  [NOTHING.  Because he was laughing so hard, I could hear him from all the way in his office.]

So, now you understand.  Or, maybe not.  I warned you that you would need a warped mind or a dictionary or both.  Supposedly, he wasn't trying to send me secret messages through the game like I thought, though.  Or, so he claims.

Later on the drive home.

Jim: You know my favorite part about your little rant is about the hamulated penis not fitting into your canoe.  That was great!

Me:  Thanks?

Jim:  I just want to make it clear, though, that my penis is NOT hamulated.

Me:  Your making this clear to me.  Your wife.  Okay.  Of course, it isn't hamulated.  Yet.  Obviously, the hamulating thing doesn't happen until after the goons rough you up for trying to have Nazi sex with our lessees.

Jim:  Oh, okay.  Well as long as that's clear.

So, never mind, the fact that we don't have any lessees and I'm not aware of any abomasi stored in our freezers, or being available for purchase at the grocery store.  (Maybe the local butcher would sell you some?) Oh, and we don't believe in djin, and I just accused him of trying to have Nazi sex--whatever that is--with me and a bunch of other people.  He just wants to point out the crooked penis thing is not true.

So, for those crazy people that think word games aren't fun, try making it into a sex game.  If you still think it's not fun, well then, you're probably not doing it right.