Blob of Woe, Wonder

My mom recently rented out the bottom floor of her house to a friend of hers from work, a wonderful woman who regales my grandmother (also--well, mostly--known as Garper) with hilarious tales of her totally Wisconsin family. For instance, her grandfather was apparently the Digit Bandit of Milwaukee, so named for the clever ruse wherein he would point his finger through his pocket at various clerks and say, "This is a robbery." Seriously. When I met my family for dinner today, my grandma couldn't wait to tell me the latest of her new roommate's stories. It was a good one, something about a trip to a fancy restaurant and one family member's attempt at stealing flatware that ended with the clatter of silver falling through pant legs and an embarrassed apology to the waitstaff. But it was Garper's lead-in that had me rolling.

"Jessie," she said, "I have a new subject for your blob."

I knew exactly what she meant, but I feigned ignorance as I laughed. "My what?"

"Your blob. You know, on the computer. Isn't that what you--yeah, your blob."