Now Might Be When I Start Posting Every Day

Hey, you never know, right?

I mean, The Bloggess is so completely crazy and awesome, and yet she manages to get her crazy awesomeness across in really short entries. (Well, short except for the post about the how she "accidentally" doused herself in giraffe urine so she could get felt up by the hot male giraffe.) (I might be editorializing.) (What? Who's jealous? Just because she's all hilarious AND openly drunk doesn't mean I'm jealous enough to go making up stories about her sexual zoo peccadilloes.) (Well, not EXACTLY.) And that works for her. (Not the zoo sex. The short entries thing.)

Whatever. This is all just to point out that the iPhone auto-corrector has always annoyed the crap out of me, until recently, when it made me laugh out loud TWICE. I don't know what it is about potatoes.

The other day, I texted Ish about how he didn't have to pick up any take-out on his way home from work. Because I decided that I would make dinner due to my sudden, inexplicable craving for mashed potatoes. Except I don't know what letters I actually used for "potatoes" because the next thing I knew, I was telling Ish I really had a craving for "mashed orators."

In fact, on second reading -- God bless him for not rushing home or calling the cops on his insane pregnant wife -- I didn't send him anywhere near a coherent message. I intended to convey that I was going to go to the store and pick up groceries and fix dinner and thus he didn't need to pick anything up. But what I actually sent him was the following message, in its entirety, which not even a code breaker could have possibly deciphered:

You may be in luck. I just hot craving for mashed orators.

"Hot" was supposed to be "got." And there's no way Ish could have realized that "orators" meant "potatoes." Further still, why on earth would a hot craving for mashed orators mean he's "in luck." In luck how? From what?

Pregnancy + iPhone = hahahahahaha.

And then last night, I was using my phone to IM (which is really stupid because my thumbing skills are sad as it is, even before auto-correct gets into the act), and somehow we got on the topic of potatoes. Again. And I was suggesting that no, we didn't have to run to the grocery store because we had plenty of potato salad left over, we could just have that with the pork roast. Except that's not how it came out, either.

The entire line was:

Piptato salad!

And then I stared at my phone and laughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. (This is not an exaggeration. Pregnancy does odd things to a woman's bladder.)

Had iPhone corrected me? No, obviously it couldn't have, since last I checked "piptato" is not a word. But then did *I* type "piptato"? And if I did, why DIDN'T auto-correct do its job?

PIPTATO!

So okay, piptato may not make YOU laugh, but one of the songs we performed last Saturday was Midnight Train to Georgia and we do indeed have three singers who do their best Pips impression and I can't help it. The imagery of Piptato Salad makes me giggle.