The other day I caught a fragment of a conversation, namely somebody concluding a sentence with the clause “… so it doesn’t poop all over your office”.
I don’t know what they were talking about and I’m not sure I want to find out.
(Ry Jones thinks I was the victim a game of tomato funeral. I’m not convinced; it was a conversation that I had been drifting in and out of at the lunch table. I just picked a bad time to drift back in.)