Blueberries anyone?

Uxorious.

Excessively fond of or submissive to a wife. Uxorious.

That, my friends, is the dictionary.com word of the day. Yes, I am a nerd for visiting this site. But I am a writer! If I am stuck trying to think of a better word than "happy," I click on dictionary.com and let it do its magic.

I remember from my days at the Boston Globe that some of the copyeditors would have fun with dictionary.com. If one of the writers used the word of the day in his or her story, that would be the greatest thing since the invention of the automobile. Or pastuerization. You get my point.

If dictionary.com ever has a word of the day I actually know, I will use it in this space. But uxorious? Never heard of that one.

-Speaking of the Boston Globe, I have a funny story to tell. I was working there on a Sunday morning one autumn day, compiling my high school football stats and players of the week. Having worked late the night before, I made a stop at Starbucks on the ride in to pick up some java.

After answering a few phone calls and entering some stats into my laptop, my coffee suddenly got cold. I decided to put my ultra-cool 'Bucks travel mug into the microwave located on the edge of the sports department because drinking cold coffee is like kissing your sister ... or worse.

Mug goes in, I type "2:00" into the keypad, and I walk away. But wait. What is that smell? It smells like ... smoke! Uh-oh.

I raced over to the microwave faster than any man has ever gone, opened the door, and peered in as smoke billowed out of the contraption. And then it all became clear to me. My coffee mug was made of metal and had a rubber bottom. Not a good thing to hit with nuclear waves. The metal flared up, igniting the rubber, and the ENTIRE newsroom floor (and trust me, it is a big place) smelled like burning rubber for the rest of the day. It took a long time before I stopped taking heat for that move.

-I have been receiving death threats recently from an old high school friend. Her name is Aimee Martin and she is quite frightening. Every night when I check my IM messages, there is another one from her.

"Still waiting for a blog about me" ... "When are you gonna write something about me?" ... "Nice column today ... too bad you didn't mention my name in it."

Fed up with this bombardment, I am finally mentioning her. And I'll tell you a few stories while I am on the topic. We went to the beach one July day back in 1998. It was hot. No, it was scorching. "It's a scorchahhh out there," the Bostonians were saying. Indeed it was.

Unfortunately for Aimee, she didn't bring her sandals or shoes with her. As we walked on the 376-degree sand to a spot where we could set up camp, she started yelling. "My feet! My feet!!" The sand was so hot that she burned the soles of her feet. No, I am not lying. I helped her back up to the wooden walkway to relieve the pain, but I could not stop laughing. Whenever I talk to her, I still make fun of her for that.

Another time, she was at my house with a few other other friends and I gave her some blueberries to eat. She was hungry so I was trying to be nice and give her something. But again, unfortunately for her, the blueberries were bad! I was not aware of this fact by the way. She spit them out into the sink and there was mold all over them. As bad as I felt about the episode, I found myself laughing hysterically once again. Good times Aimee.

I am proud to say our little friend Aimee is getting married in April and I couldn't be happier for her. I may show up at the after-party and crash it. Maybe sprinkle some less-than-appetizing blueberries onto the wedding cake?

-Jason