May I suggest the sausage?

I teach junior high. You know this. Therefore, I am immature. You also know this. Be prepared, for the ensuing three related stories are very immature.

Soon after Deg and I were married, we were eating at Olive Garden. Deg was eating the toscana soup, and it was very fragrant. So, without thinking, I tried to tell him this by saying, "I can smell your sausage from all the way over here!" Ahem. Good one, Jessica. Laughing ensued, as did blushing and explaining.

I told my coworker the next day, who had a funny story to add. She had recently been hanging out with a friend who had been wearing the shirt I have pictured to the side here. We then began an unprecedented giggle session and she suggested that I get this shirt for Deg for Christmas. (This didn't happen, by the way, though I have considered it more than once.)

This happened over a year ago, and it still gets giggled at. This morning, however, it was renewed. I shall now explain. It is teacher appreciation week here at school, and every day, they have provided either breakfast or lunch for us. Yesterday, someone brought a grill and barbecued up really nice brats for everyone. I'm not a fan of them, so I didn't go get one for lunch. This morning, one of my darling students and I had the following conversation:
Student: "So, did you like your sausage yesterday?"
Me, stifling giggles: "No, I don't really like them, so I didn't eat one."
Student: "Ah man, then you could have let me eat it! Man!"
Student then runs out the door and into his sister, to whom he yells: "Mrs. V could have given me her sausage!"

I lost it! I literally ran down to that other teacher's room and we were seriously cackling for a good three or four minutes. Full on belly laughing, side aching, tears running down your face laughing. And we couldn't tell anyone why because, well, it's inappropriate!

And that is why I work at a junior high.