Last night I went to bed early to read some student stories. When I unexpectedly came downstairs to put my papers in my school bag, I find Brando (who is more tone-deaf than Liam Gallagher on a coke bender) on the living-room sofa with the Rock Band microphone in his hand, looking up sheepishly.
Me: Oh, my God. It's like I caught you with your hand down your pants.
Me (after our lovely new weather radio, purchased after the tornadotore through our neighborhood, went off at 3:45 in the morning for a winter storm warning): You'd think the National Weather Service would realize some snow and ice aren't worth scaring the crap out of people in the middle of the night.
Brando: Yeah, there should be special settings--one for Nuisance and another for Imminent Death.