Thursday, September 25, 2003

The good folks at the leasing office–you know, the ones who neglected to tell me that 85% of my windows were fused shut–recently mailed a brochure entitled “Protect Your Family from Lead in Your Home.”

I wasn’t expecting anything revolutionary from the dirty little pamphlet, but I was proven incorrect as soon as I laid eyes on Page 2. Nestled in the very first paragraph was sage advice: don’t eat paint chips. I promptly blacked out.

When I came to, an epiphany settled into me like a fat woman into a petite dress.

“I’ve stumbled upon a linguistic treasure!” I shouted, fist pumping triumphantly in the air.

I promptly blacked out again.

I regained enough consciousness, gentle reader, to scrawl down a new phrase for your convenience. Are you ready?

“Damn paint chips!”

This handy little phrase should serve as an endearing replacement for the antiquated “my bad” that rose in popularity in the late 90s. To wit:

[Case 1]

“Did you lose your cellphone again?”

“Damn paint chips!”

[Case 2]

“You insensitive bastard! How could you forget our anniversary?”

“Damn paint chips!”

[Case 3]

“Don’t you even remember what a good rant looked like?”

“Damn paint chips!”