hearts I work at a university where we sometimes hire student assistants to help out with our tech support workload. Today one of my assistants came in for his shift and I told him there was a client who could use his help.

The client had left a voice mail message describing her problem, so I thought I would just play that message for him on speakerphone and he’d be on his way.

I knew I had several messages stored in my voice mail archives, so I started message replay and hit a certain key to speed past the first few to get to the pertinent message.

I didn’t speed fast enough.

See, I sometimes archive messages from my husband, who has a tendency to leave me wise-cracking voice mails to lighten my mood.

When I played the series of messages, I skipped fast enough through a few and then the student (and everyone else in my office) heard the following from my husband:

Hey, giant pootie!

I was mortified. I looked at the student and he smiled uncomfortably.

I died a little.

The thing is, I don’t even remember why Dave started addressing me as Giant Pootie. I don’t even know what it means. I had to ask.

Dave thinks it’s from circa 1986 when we started dating. It might be a variation on Puddin’ Head. Or it could be an offshoot of Pootie Cat, which doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

And we will never know why I’m a giant Pootie. What part of me is the pootie? And why is it so big?

OK, folks. Here’s where you dump all the insane terms of endearment you have for your significant others or kids in the comments.

I’m quite sure they’ll make more sense than mine.

Stumble it!