My mug does funny things, what does yours do?**

This entry is also known as: WATCH OUT, IT'S HEP C!

.1. While sitting in class and drinking from my coffee mug I started to hear whistling. It was a nice and calm sort of whistle, the kind that could potentially make a girl like me drop off to sleep.

I put my mug down and moved around to make certain it wasn’t me (because you just never know). No whistles or squeaks, thankfully.

Picked up my mug once again and proceeded to drink only to be greeted with the whistling sound.

Moved the mug away from my mouth: no sound.
Brought it back: whistle.

I WAS SO EXCITED. MY MUG HAD A TRICK.

I immediately turned to the two closest of my classmates in an effort to share the exciting news. They were in the throws of discussing the use of the Subjunctive but who cares about the Subjunctive when you’ve got a WHISTLING MUG. I could barely contain myself and was moving around erratically in my rolly chair because I wanted to get their attention.

Finally I rolled into P’s chair and said:

“Listen to this. My mug can whistle. Maybe I can do a whole song. Only I’m a little tone deaf so I don’t know. But listen.”

And with my eyes locked on both of my classmates, I smiled and put the mug up to my mouth and “sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss” because that’s what I think a whistle sounds like on paper and it’s really late at night, anyway, and so maybe not.

P started laughing and S stared at me like I was smoking the crack. Her expression made me laugh while My Whistling Mug was still up against my mouth. I accidentally spit up a little bit of latté on to both myself and P. Which made us laugh even more because I declared: “I spit. That’s my own personal trick and has nothing to do with my whistling mug.”

.2. S doesn’t like the new commercials about Hepatitis C. She thinks they’re overreacting because “if you’re not careful, then you could be walking down the street and Hepatitis C will just fall on your head.”

.3. Out of curiosity, I was staring down into the hole from which I drink my latté. It’s small and compact and so naturally, I was curious to examine it at close range.

I don’t know why I do things like this probably because I am a gifted spaztic, but I then decided to slide it closed in order to watch the action of the mechanism that opens and closes the ‘lip’ of my cup. But the mechanism was angry and spit up a lot of coffee. Defying gravity it all landed on my face.

I was in public. Walking down the street. Alone with my angry whistling mug and looking as though some invisible individual had pushed my head back at high velocity.

.4. And somehow, this morning, I arrived at school only to find a giant brown dot on my nose. Right smack-dab in the middle of where you would think the term “brown noser” would be perfectly illustrated.

My latté had somehow managed to sneak out of my whistling mug and sit quietly on the tip of my nose.

I’m certain people thought it was a charming and uniquely placed beauty mark. When they pointed, I waved back and smiled because I’m friendly that way.

**I totally stole that spin from hijabman.