Booger.

It started so innocently last Monday, with this comic strip:

And many things in life, it all snowballed from there.

Now, I probably should tell you that the Lovely Mrs. G. and I are huge fans of Darby Conley’s comic, “Get Fuzzy”. Bucky Katt and Satchel Pooch are a huge part of our combined senses of humor (especially Bucky), to the point where our refrigerator is dotted with about a dozen of our favorite strips, and we even own two large matted and framed comics, which proudly hang on our bedroom wall.

So in last Monday’s episode, Bucky walked up to Satchel, said “Booger”, then walked away.

Then on Tuesday, he did it again.

Both Mrs. G. and I were curious about what was up – and how far Darby would carry this bizarre-yet-funny joke. So when we spoke on Tuesday afternoon, as we were hanging up, Mrs. G. said to me, “Oh, by the way…booger.” She then slammed the phone down, getting the last laugh.

Wednesday morning’s strip looked like this:

So the Booger Game was now on. I had Miss Katie call her to tell her “booger” and hang up. Mrs. G. then got me again later that evening with another “booger” message.

By Thursday AM, Bucky was still at it, and our game had really escalated.

I sent Mrs. G. an online greeting card that said “booger” at the end of the dancing animation. Later I sent her this grocery list:

Bananas
Oranges
Oatmeal
Grapes
Eggs
Radishes

She admitted that it took her a while to figure out to read down the first letters. (She was all set to chew her dimwitted husband out for asking for oatmeal and eggs, when she’d just bought some earlier that week.)

So heh, heh, I was having a great booger-ific laugh.

But then Mrs. G. struck back.

She sent an e-mail to my co-workers, asking that they all walk over to me and say “booger.” And they did. Each and every one of them. They then forwarded it to other people we work with in other departments, who joined in. Casual acquaintences - people I barely know - have come up to me in the past two days to mention mucus. Hell, even Skippy Whitebread – a guy with absolutely no pop culture knowledge – walked up to me and said, “Hey, Tommy – BOOGER!” (I then had to spend 10 minutes explaining to him why this is funny.)

Yes, the Lovely Mrs. G. got the best of me. For now, at least.

But the game continues this AM.

How long will we keep this up? Who knows. She says I’m a grudge bearing animal who never forgets anything (which is semi-true), and I know she hates to lose these type of contests, so it’s quite possible we’ll both be in our 80’s and saying “booger” to each other.

In the meantime, I just sent her a fax with a certain 6-letter “B” word on it, printed in size 99 font.

Game on!