Badgers

Neighbor: Did you see the cute little family living under your shed?

Me: Family of what?

Neighbor: Badgers.

Me: BADGERS! I. Have. A. Dog. Badgers are mean.

Neighbor: Well, maybe not badgers but ground hogs.

Me (in my head): Son of a....

Later that night...

Me: Hun, we have a family of something living under the shed.

BF: Family of what?

Me: Neighbor saw them this morning, they're badgers or something.

BF: BADGERS!

Me: Maybe ground hogs.

BF: There's a big difference between ground hogs and badgers.

Me: Well, whatever they are you'd better fix it (read: get rid of) before the Littlest Kid gets home.

BF: Christ.  That's all I need.  If he sees them he'll be feeding them carrots.

Me: Do badgers eat carrots?

BF: We DO NOT have badgers!

Me: Either way.  I'll pick up some extras carrots.

BF: Son of a ....

Quiet

This sign is hanging in the fifth floor elevator lobby of our hotel.

You need a key card to access the fifth and sixth floors of this hotel.

We are on the fifth floor.

Take a minute.

Read it.

No really, read every word.

Especially the fourth paragraph.

We're on night 3 of our biz trip.

I have to admit, our hotel is nice.

It's comfortable.

It is not quiet.

Monday night maintenance banged on my door at 10pm claiming they needed to fix it.

Um, I didn't call you and my door works fine. Go away, I have school tomorrow.

At 11:30pm, Room Service dropped a tray of glassware in the hall.

A LARGE tray.

And it sounded like they broke every last cup on it.

And then they proceeded to pick it up.

LOUDLY.

For 20 minutes.  Please, shut the eff up, did I not mention I have school tomorrow?

Tuesday night some jackass' car alarm started going off at 4am.  It was still going off at 6am when I got in the shower.

At this point I'd take the stray Tuba player. (You should've read the sign like I said.)

Do you think the front desk has ear plugs for people who's rooms are in the Quiet Zone?

Richard

Currently my boss and I are on a business trip in Philly.

We drove.

With Richard.

Her TomTom.

I have a TomTom.

She has a respectable British sounding name like Amelia.

She likes to turn left and doesn't give me any lip.

Amelia nows her shit and can get from point A to point B.

Richard is a pain in the ass.

He also likes to turn left.

Repeatedly.

Until you're in a rest stop off the New Jersey Turnpike with 700 tractor trailers and no apparent way to get out.

Richard also likes the suburbs.

So much so that he will take you through ENTIRE residential neighborhoods before he takes you back to your hotel.

Moral of my travel story?

Name your TomTom after a woman.

Because even electronic men cannot follow directions.