My dad drove me to work this morning. I was running late, so I dashed out the door with shoes and earrings and keys in hand, banana in mouth, and unhappy words in mind. I managed to squish everything in the car except for one renegade shoe, which decided it wanted to live on the driveway. Under the car.
Me: "Oh, shoe!"
Dad: "Sounds like a good children's story. The Shoe That Got Away."
Me: "Actually, I think it was something about a little old lady who lived in a shoe."
Dad: "Sure. You could be boring and mundane like that. I, on the other hand, like to be hip and cool."
Me: "Pfft. Now that you have this new TV, you think you're cutting edge, huh?"
Dad: "Yeah. Adam and I watched the Cubs lose last night on the new forty-screen inch uhh . . . LCD TV."
Me: ". . . For the record, that would be 'forty-inch screen.'"
Dad: "What did I say?"
Me: "'Forty-screen inch.'"
Dad: "Oh. Well. That's texting shorthand for 'forty-inch screen.'"