UPDATE: Her eyes did well up, and then they rolled. Epic Success.
I'm the kind of guy who gets really excited over the odometer rolling to a new number. Not only do I get excited when it clicks to a nice round multiple of 10000, but also fun numbers like 75757.5, or 111111 (I made a point of driving 11 mph when I hit that one. No. Seriously. I pulled to the shoulder of the PCH, which is...Hwy 1). Palindromes are always exciting: 98338.9, or 48384. But it's seeing my favorite numbers like π or e that gives me a unique pleasure, the all-time greatest being when the odometer in my Mustang read out the golden number Φ:
Notice that the digits span beyond the odometer to include the trip meter. A little bit of planning, and voila! An increased level of precision, which paints a more exacting picture of your nerdiness to your wife, so that she can use it to more accurately make fun of you.
But now I have one that I'm hoping won't generate mockery from my beauty, although she will certainly roll her eyes after she dries them.
Today is a special day. Tonight, at around, oh, about 9:09:09 PM, my wife and I will have been married for 9 years, 9 months, 9 days, 9 hours, 9 minutes and 9 seconds. So, as you're reading this we're on our way up to San Francisco for a surprise overnight nonce. Why go so far for this? Because there's a restaurant up there called The Nines. And we're gonna go there for dinner after we play some 9-Ball (9 games of it, for sure, not to mention we'll squeeze in 9 innings of listening to the Dodgers lose on the radio.). And waiting at our table will be nine roses. And because of the wonderful people there at the restaurant, Beethoven's 9th Symphony will be playing in the background (and "1999" and "99 luftballons"...)
So you see, I am compelled to go the whole nine yards, or my psyche will be...will be...DECIMATED. And who knows? Maybe nine months from now...
At any rate, your Ninecompoop loves ya, Maria!