My Wife and I were sitting in the living room. She was on the computer and I was on the couch reading the paper. Suddenly the
tornado alarms starting going off in the distance. A recorded man's voice began giving the usual warning that we are all going to die and shouldn't panic as long as you know Jesus because otherwise you'll probably end up in hell rather than Oz. We flipped on the TV news and listened to the weatherman explain the situation. Somewhere in the distance a blogger was cursing him for interrupting "Grey's Anatomy." Then we hit mute and sat listening to the alarms again. Then My Wife turned to me and this is what she said:
"It's a good thing our cats aren't cows."
After a lengthy pause during which I had hoped she would explain what the hell that meant I replied, "eh, what?"
"It's a good thing our cats aren't cows," she repeated.
"OK, why? I mean aside from the fact that their poops on our carpet would be huge," I inquired.
"Because we'd have sour milk for a week," was her ingenius reply.
OoooooooooKAY
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