Failure to follow warnings may result in bodily injury.

In a delightful turn of events, I had a lovely evening with my friend Tammy, the orange t-shirt lesbian. She looks for all the world like a dyke until you notice the Coach bag and the manicured nails.

I picked her up at her place and we rode over to a favorite joint of mine that has a fabulous patio. Tammy hadn't been there before, and we settled on a shared thing of onion rings, and would equally split her order of a bbq chicken quesadilla and my order of homemade chicken salad (with celery and pecans and all kinds of stuff) on a toasted croissant. There was a pleasant breeze and we settled in for some conversation. Ate the onion rings. And then he walks up and apologizes because, uh, her food is ready to come out. Mine, the kitchen just tells him, well, they're out of chicken salad. A deep breath later, I'm determined to have good karma. It's o.k. But there's nothing else on the menu striking my fancy and her quesadilla comes out and it's huge, covering the plate. So we share it and move on. Besides, the waiter has pretty hair and gorgeous eyes. He's not particularly over good looking, but he ain't bad. And there was puh-lenty of quesadilla.

It was a deep breath but I had to let it go.

So then I decide to run to Home Depot. You see, G, my # 1 lesbian dyke, her birthday is Monday.* And this past Monday, I saw just the thing for her birthday. A man at work was showing off his "professional" version. The kind the maintenance men use. They got him one so he'd quit calling them. Anyway, I just knew there had to be a Black & Decker version out there. Well, there's not. It's some line I've never heard of. But it's within my current budget-cutting price and it is sold by Home Depot, so it ought to be decent enough. But as I was reading the package, it says: Safety instructions: Failure to follow warnings may result in bodily injury.

I am going to admit to you, I don't know the first thing about most Home Depot items. I don't know the first thing about construction (except I am often turned on by men in work boots and blue jeans and t-shirts). I don't know anything about renovation. In fact, when my G does a home project, our friends have been known to say that my version of helping is being there to make her a glass of iced tea. But even with my very limited knowledge of construction, I am having trouble fathoming how this tool can result in bodily injury.

I'll let you know how it turns out. Because if anybody will fail to follow a warning, it'll be her boys.

*G sometimes reads this blog. So if you're reading this and thinking, "He knows I don't like birthdays." Get over it. Oh, and uh, you're gonna love your birthday present.