I was really afraid of handling you when you were born. It was super awkward. I was convinced I was going to accidentally break your neck or snap one of your arms off. Now, I realize you are just a giant wet noodle. Yes, noodles can still tear in half or be dropped on the floor, but they won't break in half; not if they are wet. So now-a-days, I just throw you around haphazardly, calling you my little rice noodle.
I also call you:
peanut
stinker
stinker bell
stink bomb
snoooty patooty
thorasaurus
and
the goddess of thunder and rock and roll.
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