Reasonable

Me [reading billboard advertising ETV Radio]: “Eyes on the road. Ears on the radio.”
Ha! When four people are having a conversation on the radio, and John Hockenberry sounds like the reasonable one, you know it’s time to turn it off.

Stripes

Me: She’s got racing stripes. “Racing Stripes“? Wasn’t that the name of that movie with the zebra voiced by Malcolm in the Middle and the evil stallion played by Senator Fred Thompson?

Sub-Machine Gun

Me: I think it’s time to add the… garlic.
…
I was looking for the word “garlic,” and do you know what came into my head?
Wife: No.
Me: “Johnson sub-machine gun,” which isn’t even right. It’s not a “Johnny gun.”
Wife: I don’t think it’s a traditional Italian spice, either.

Lipids

Wife [after standing a stick of butter up in a saucepan]: The leaning tower of lipids.

Ducks

Three-Year-Old [playing with rubber ducks in the bath]: Don’t wash the ducks. They don’t have arms.

Romans

Six-Year-Old: Every day at school, we play zombies versus Romans. The good guys are Roman fruit bats made of metal, but they can still move.

Bleeding

Me: You need a Band-Aid. You’re bleeding.
Three-Year-Old: I’m not bleeding.
Me: Look at your knee. Where did that blood come from?
Three-Year-Old: It came from the parking lot.

Embalming

Me: What’s that old-fashioned gas pump doing in front of Leevey’s Funeral Home?
Wife: What are you talking about?
Me: “Gas up your dead guy.” [to the tune of “Brush Up Your Shakespeare”]
There’s an old-style gas pump in front of Leevey’s Funeral Home.
Wife: What does, “Gas up your dead guy,” even mean?
Me: Oh, wait. Maybe it’s not actually a gas pump. Maybe it’s a pump for embalming fluid.
Wife: Do you really think they take the dead guy out front and pump him full of embalming fluid? Because that seems unlikely, to me.

Different

Wife: What was that about the iced coffee?
Me: It’s just that every other time we’ve been in there you’ve ordered some.
Wife: And how many times is that?
Me: I think it’s, like, three.
Wife: It’s more like two.
Me: It could be two.
Wife: That’s not a pattern. It’s a line. You can’t extrapolate three points from two.
Me: Yes you can. The expected error is just infinite.
…
You can draw the linear extrapolation, but you just can’t expect the error to be finite.
Wife: Want to say it again a different way?
Me: Ooga, ooga, burfully burf, caima-ooo, pop pop.
Was that different enough?

Windmill

Six-Year-Old: A person trapped in a windmill?
Wife: No, what?
Six-Year-Old: On your computer.