in a jam

Looking for a radio station to listen to on the way to work (because the one we were listening to ruined the morning by playing the pina colada song – thanks a whole hell of a lot, WIBA) I stopped briefly on one of those shows where three noisy people talk over each other about whatever random thoughts enter their jumbled little brains. They were, at that moment, taking calls from listeners who they were goading into revealing what they considered to be their worst Christmas gift ever. The caller they had on the line just then was saying, “jelly of the month club,” resulting in a rousing chorus of “oh gross!” and “yuck!” from the DJs. If the gift-giver was listening, I’m pretty sure the caller was going to get a gift far worse than twelve jars of jelly this year.

Maybe it’s a sign of how low my expectations are, but just after he said that I looked at My Darling B and remarked, “Y’know, that doesn’t sound like such a bad gift.” And it’s definitely a sign of our compatibility that she agreed with me. (Full disclosure: She later got me a subscription to a jam-of-the-month club for my birthday. No, I will not be calling in to a radio show to talk with three noisy DJs about this.)

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