Sometimes my husband and I send naughty text messages to each other. Adding to the excitement of the messages themselves is the constant risk that one of us will accidentally Twitter our message instead. I apologize ahead of time for what you may one day be exposed to from our mistells. Speaking of risky behavior, my nail lady LeAnn (as in the woman who does my acrylic fingernails) asked for some advice today. She stammered out, "I have a really stupid question. And I'm not sure if you'll know, but maybe you will. I mean, I don't think it's really your thing, but you're smart ... so maybe you'd know something ..."
Me: "Oh, for Pete's sake LeAnn, what's your question?"
LeAnn: "Do you know how they make meth? I just know it has something to do with cold medicine."
Me: "Sudafed is what you're thinking. There's other household products involved but I don't remember what. Why do you ask?"
LeAnn: "I'm worried about my son. We have some cold medicine in the house and I don't think he's taken it but I'm not sure how all that works."
Me: "You don't need a box of Sudafed, LeAnn. You need a crate of it. So I don't think that's his issue."
LeAnn: "Well, he just spends a lot of time in the bathroom with the water running."
Me: "How old is he?"
LeAnn: "18. And I go in there and I can't find any drugs or anything."
Me: "He's jerking off in the bathroom, LeAnn."
LeAnn: "He doesn't have any money for drugs, so I'm not sure what he could be buying. But he's in there 3 or 4 times a day."
Me: "He 18. I have a pretty good idea of what he could be doing that's free."
LeAnn: "You think? Oh, I hope that's it!"
Me: "Has he been acting strange or agitated like he's on drugs?"
LeAnn: "No if anything he's been really calm."
Me: "Mystery solved."