Because No One Knows How to Spell

No one’s going to get my response to a friend’s recent Facebook status.

Friend: Is it wrong that I want to put up my Christmas tree before I find our forks, knives, and spoons?

Me: The tree has to go up before the utinsels! Also, I love groaning and rolling my eyes at my own jokes.

And I just feel like I’m betraying myself to explain the wordplay between tinsel and utensils.

I’ve said too much already.

Bumpass, VA – Warning: Heavily Implied Profanity Ahead; Rated PG

So, I went to a Stake Institute FHE on Monday in the Union Square building basement.
A lot of people showed up. We mingled.
I saw one of my friends who is also doing the triathlon on Saturday.
She was standing with another good friend.
We got to talking about training.
And the town where the race is.
And we started making jokes about the town’s name.
And getting trucker hats as souvenirs.
“Bumpass! We’re going to Bumpass, yay!”
“Bum. Pass.”  “Bump. ***.”
Harmless enough. I’ve typed that before, without asterisks.
Then all of a sudden I blurted,
“We’re going to BUMP some ***!” (Those asterisks are capitalized, by the way.)
That turned out to be a LOT louder than I expected.
The friend who was standing with us started to giggle.
And blush. I covered my mouth and laughed.
I tried to pretend not one of the hundred-or-so surrounding people AT CHURCH heard me.
She pointed out that she was blushing, and I was blushing.
So we must really be 10-year old boys.
Which I’ve already admitted to.
Embarrassing. And hilarious.
I’ll be taking pictures on Saturday.
I don’t know about a trucker hat, though.
That’s just obscene.