This is our second spring of owning our cute little house, with its one-car garage and ski-jump of a driveway. Last spring we were mostly concerned with clearing out the yucky leaves and finding patio furniture that wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg. This year, we’ve actually had a minute here and there to watch the plants start to green up and a few flowers show their little faces.
We have one daffodil. It came up behind our porch. We named him Steve and are thinking of getting him a friend or two for next year. We also have this bushy thing that makes pink flowers.
And over the past week or so, ever since the pink flowers emerged, we’ve been having conversations that begin with, “What’s the name of that pink flowery thing, do you think? It might be fun to get more of them.”
I believe the answer to this question is: an azalea. But seriously, have you ever tried to Google “hot pink bush”? Warning: don’t try this at work. Because ... yeah. Biology lesson ahead. Okay, maybe not a lesson, per se, because I mean, I've seen ladyparts before. But not necessarily from that angle.
Now, this is not the first time I have gotten myself into trouble by practicing unsafe Google. Like when Arizona was getting ready to make the wheels for my new downhill mountain bike. He likes to customize everything, which is totally sexy, and he agreed to trim my bike out in pink. (I figured so much of the equipment we use is anti-girly, that I needed a dose of estrogen. I then named the bike Fang. Because, hey, you can be girly and Fangtastic at the same time!)
Anyway, back to wheels. This is one of Arizona's wheels. See those blue things that attach the spokes to the rim and can be used to adjust the tension, in order to make the wheels all round and stuff?
For my bike, he gave my choice of blue or green, and if I wanted pink, I had to find them online because he wasn't having much luck. The subsequent conversation went like this:
Me: Okay, so what are these things actually called, so I can Google them?
Me (beat of silence): You want me to Google pink nipples.
Arizona: Pink nipples, comma, hot biker chick?
Me: Not helping. Okay, I’ll think of something. (Heads upstairs for computer)
Arizona (calling up the stairs): While you’re putting in an order, I need the tool that goes with them.
Me: What’s it called?
Arizona: A nipple clamp.
Yes, he was kidding about that last part. Fortunately. And I did eventually, after numerous online searches of varying cringe factors and a couple of virus alerts, find the pink nipples I was searching for, at a UK store that caters to unicyclers. Because, apparently, only clowns like pink nipples. Or something. And my wheels look pretty sharp, if I do say so myself!
So, just as Arizona’s fortune cookie fortune from lunch the other day said SOME FORTUNE COOKIES HAVE NO FORTUNE (I kid you not), I guess the moral of the story is: practice safe Google … or if you’re not going to, make sure you’re using protection. (And maybe not doing it as your boss walks by!) And may the Force be with you!