Twelve is often easily amused. It cracks her up that I'm having trouble getting used to my new Kindle Fire (I HATE this thing!), farts and testicles are consistently hilarious, and I actually induced a guffaw earlier today when I said that the guy at the oil change place had indeed been flirting with me, just not the way seventh graders do it (in case you don't get the joke, it's funny because all the guy did was talk to me, which is the exact opposite of how seventh graders flirt).
As we went through security this morning on our way to put her on a plane for yet another cross- continental journey, I set off all kinds of alarms. The scanner freaked out about the two buttons on my jeans fly, the (small, non-tacky) rhinestones on the back pockets, and my hands.
The simple, in-public pat down took care of the jeans problem, but my hands needed to be swiped by the special wand thingy, the results of which led to a private special session with two women agents behind a very, very sketchy looking closed door.
I got a real pat down.
I was informed of all the steps in the process - three horizontal swipes in the zipper region, one hand on each side of each leg moving up until they hit resistance - in a manner very reminiscent of how the gynecologist gives you the play-by-play before shoving a speculum (a word that Kindle's dictionary doesn't know, by the way) in your vag (no, damn you, I am not trying to type "bag"!).
It turned out that, in addition to decanting all liquids into three-ounce-or-smaller containers, one should never scrub the bathtub before going through security. Apparently the chemicals in bon ami can be used to make bombs. Who knew, right?
(And just when I thought it was impossible for my bathtub to be scrubbed less often.)
Twelve got to come with me through the unmarked, dented door with the scratched-up paint, probably to avoid possible lawsuits, and she thought the whole thing was a grand lark. Okay, whatever, dude. Sure, I'm just here to entertain. I will get you back, however, by posting that silly picture from this morning on Facebook.
Not that you asked, but the Kindle's camera function was designed by narcissistic morons; it only takes pictures from the front, so if you want to take a picture of anything other than your multiple chins, you have to perform some awkwardly carpal tunnel-inducing maneuvers.
Can I write a blog in which I review new consumer electronics? Then everyone could join Twelve in mocking my incompetence.