620.911738 days

PHONE: Ring. Ring. Hey, Taco, it's that recruiter who has called you eight times today but won't leave a voicemail.

TACO: Hello?

RECRUITER: Yes hello I am speaking to Taco?

TACO: Yep.

RECRUITER: Yes hello Taco I am recruiter I am representing opportunity for 1.7 year contract are you interested?

TACO: The hell?

RECRUITER: Excuse me?

TACO: That's a weird duration for a contract.

RECRUITER: I am sorry?

TACO: How many days are in 1.7 years?

RECRUITER: One year plus seven months.

TACO: No, seven months is 7/12 of a year. Roughly. They vary in length, so it's a pretty terrible unit of measurement. But let's accept it as a basic unit. One year plus seven months is 1 7/12 years. You said 1.7. 1 7/10 years. How many days are in 1.7 years?

RECRUITER: This contract runs from blah blah blah to blah blah blah.

TACO: Ah, I see. That's not 1.7 years.

RECRUITER: No it is for one year and seven months.

TACO: But you said 1.7 years.

RECRUITER: Yes.

TACO: You see my difficulty.

RECRUITER: Sir are you interested?

TACO: How many days are in 1.7 years?

RECRUITER: *click*

Google no poner el queso en la ropa interior del diablo.

What Google thinks my sister said:

Hey Mama had planned money if guys are having wanna follow up on people who else.

What my sister actually said:

¡Hola hermano! ¿Qué tal? Es tu hermanita. Llámame prontito. Adiós.

Kidzookie vs. the Troglodytes

Tomorrow is my son's first day of 3rd grade. He's currently upstairs crying because he'll go back to being bored, primarily because they don't let him read difficult enough books. I'm simultaneously proud and depressed as fuck.

Ish.

WIFEZILLA: Turn the air off, I'm cold.

TACO: No.

WIFEZILLA: I'm nakedish!

TACO: Pfft. You're not nakedish. You're wearing a tshirt nightgown thing.

WIFEZILLA: Ish!

TACO: Yeah, yeah, I'm nakedish too.

WIFEZILLA: No, you're wearing jeans.

TACO: There's a lot of play in "ish," bish.

WIFEZILLA: There's something wrong with you.