I just drove the six blocks to pick up some chili my mother-in-law made today.

When I returned to the car with the pot, I said, "Let's open this side door. I have rubber mats back here."

There was no rubber mat. (The kids have been using my car.) There was a jewel case for "Booty Hits" instead.

UPDATE: By gosh, if these boys weren't grown, I'd teach 'em a thing or two about booty hits.