Because your kiss is on my . . .

El Esposo and I are sitting in Taco Bell last night (that's right, Taco Bell--eat your heart out--this is our awesome life) when this charming mediocre elevator-y number from the eighties comes on. I'll refresh you: "Because your kiss, your kiss is on my . . . because your kiss, your kiss I can't resist. Because your kiss is on my . . . for the rest of my life." (Basically it sucks). Anyway, we are in the mood to have fun with song lyrics on our way to check out this sledding hill down the road for what may be our one and only chance this year.

Side-note: Every year El Esposo gets excited about sledding and is always talking about how we should go and I'm always like, "On 1/2 an inch of snow? At the most? That's not sledding; that's called grassburn." I'm a party pooper, right? So last night I'm trying to make up for it since we live in the suburbs now and we got maybe two inches before that nice layer of ice, and anyway we find ourselves at Taco Bell because our kitchen is half-tiled and not really usable.

So I'm making Jerry Seinfeld-style jokes:

"What sort of list are we talking about here? The good list? The bad list? A list? B list? Naughty list? List of people I have kissed before? That's not really saying much."

And El Esposo asks what am I talking about. "Um," I hesitate because I'm thinking it's pretty seriously obvious, and then I say "Your kiss is on my list?"

To which El Esposo replies, "It's lips, not list. List doesn't even make sense."

It's a good point, but I'm still thinking, "Who said anything about sense? It rhymes with can't resist."

So which is it? Try and resist the temptation to google.

p.s., sledding was not bad at all