You gotta love Facebook.

Currently, there is a discussion amongst my old school days people. One guy (we are Facebook friends and I have no idea who he is, maybe my sister knew him?, but he is funny and that's good enough for me) asked, Is it, "You are a real turd!" or "You are a real terd!"? I get confused.

Others weighed in with various comments, such as, It's "i" before "e" except after "c", LOL. A girl named Harvin decided to focus on contractions, All right, you ready for this?, says she. You're a real turd or terd. She said, Interesting post sir. He responded referring to her as Miss Hansen (Miss Harvin/Hansen, take your pick, relays it's a good thing she's going to be a school teacher someday). But no one concluded whether it was terd or turd.

Until. Until Betty DuRant, a middle school teacher to be reckoned with, weighed in with the shortest possible reply. u.

Somehow, I can just hear her saying that in English class right this second.

So, another guy writes in that it's been 30 years since he sat in Mrs. DuRant's classroom and that this was the highlight of day, no, make that the best thing that's happened all week, and that Mrs. D was the greatest yet and he was laughing hysterically just like when he was 13 and she wasn't retired, it didn't matter. And she was the coolest teacher ever. She was. She "had" it.

Meanwhile, a guy gives his two cents, Does it matter?

Original guy says, It does to someone!!

Mrs. D posts, me!

Well, this reminded me of my own turd story. When I was a fair young maiden, my family, including yours truly, was sitting on the porch watching TV. I called my brother a turd. He surely provoked me and "turd" seemed the appropriate classification of him for the moment. Of course, I didn't even know what a turd was. But Michael started yelping, She called me a rabbit poo-poo!, she called me a rabbit poo-poo!

OOPS! Now I knew I was in Trouble. You mean a turd was a rabbit poo-poo?!?!? My parents were scandalized, totally. I defended my poor hapless self, I didn't know what a turd was, HONEST! You know, it was one of those stray words that somehow took up residence in a back room of my brain labeled, Words-you've-heard-and-don't-know-what-they-mean-but-might-come-in-handy-one-day.

No one believed my story. They figured if I called someone a turd, I knew what I was talking about and meant it.

Once my brother flung a booger in the hot pink, pale pink and white shag rug in my sister's and my bedroom. He was told to find it (not by my sister or me). I think I all ready told you that story.

Well, I just thought I would give the most edifying blog I've ever written a little more pizazz, with the booger story.

BTW, I kind of jumbled up the terd/turd story and omitted less discreet parts, hehe. I ask myself, Does it matter that I got the story out of order and declined to convey the vulgar parts? The answer is, no, not to anyone, especially not me. Especially not me because I am currently sick to my stomach after eating chocolate chip gelato, lemon cake with rich frosting and white chocolate shavings and zucihhini (you know, that long green vegetable that looks like a cucumber) bread smeared with butter. Also, seafood bisque, salad and sandwich for lunch and Williams-Sonoma white bean soup and red pepper tapenade on grilled toast for dinner. And half a banana for breakfast. I think I'm pushing for 500 pounds by the time I'm 50. At this rate, no problema.

JUMBLE KEM