Dry Erase Challenge

In college, I lived in an apartment with a dry erase board hung on the kitchen wall. I think it originally started out as a well-meaning attempt at communication, the mundane things that are important enough to write down, but not important enough to go bang on someone's bedroom door and tell them RIGHT THEN. Grocery lists, for instance, reminders about when the electric bill was due and what the amount was split equally among roommates.

But somewhere along the way, things went south and the dry erase board became the locus for the kind of thing you should probably wait to tell your roommate until there was a qualified sparring referee present and everyone had been issued mouth guards. Things like, "STOP FUCKING DRINKING MY MILK" and a variety of escalating threats that eventually started out with: "ALL RIGHT YOU BITCHES..."

So you can maybe understand my hesitation when Pants stuck his freebie dry erase calendar from Subaru (thanks for buying extra parts, you!) on the fridge. In nearly seven years of marriage, we've had our pitfalls, but we've somehow managed to avoid having passive-aggressive dry erase fights. Nevertheless, the presence of a board, and especially one in the high-traffic area of the fridge, was a risky move in my world.

And indeed, things started out benignly. In his careful, all caps printing, Pants wrote: "THINGS TO GET:" and for a week, the list remained blank. Then, out of nowhere, the list started: "9 cheesecakes." At first, I thought this was a veiled reference to the fact that our wedding cake had instead been a bunch of different cheesecakes from the Cheesecake Factory, which was a brilliant and delicious idea but one that Pants never got to take advantage of because he was too busy greeting people and being a classy new husband (whereas I, on the other, made sure to shove at least three different pieces into my face at lightning speed during my brother's toast-- there's even a picture of this and I have cheesecake and a guilty look on my face). But then I remembered that I'm dealing with Pants and Pants is a guy, and therefore not prone to making veiled anything, so I answered with "bathtub of champagne." The next morning, carefully printed under it was "GOLD TOOF." Game on:

"Dubs (for rollin')

STEEZ (TO ROLL UP IN)

A Mic (to rock)

A GRIP (TO CLOCK)

Shawties

HO'S (DIFFERENT AREA CODES)

Enough lettuce to support my shoe fetish

When we ran out of room, I tried a new prompt: "Good troll names," which yielded the following results:

Pennywort

BORGLESTROM (there were copious umlauts involved, but I can't figure out how to do them on a keyboard)

Huggermugger

ANDERSON COOPER

Chuy McQueso the NAFTA troll

GRUNDLEMEISER von TAINTSKIN (one of Pants's and my absolute favorite, because I am 8 years old)

LORKENFART THE PRETTY BRAVE

So, I like this use of the board. The only rule is that you have to add your contribution without the other person seeing you. The current prompt is "Name of your signature Kung Fu move" and the list so far reads:

The Fiery Earlobe

SHANGHAI SCROTE

Crouching E-Mail, Hidden Agenda

Fists of Moderate Frustration

I think this may be one of those things where we're in a race to see how wildly inappropriate we can get before the baby learns to read...