You know you've been playing too much warcraft when a co-worker facetiously suggests that your six year old could farm gold for you, and you think... hmmm, we could level up an Alt, and...
Found this in the Random House Treasury of Best-Loved Poems -
At the boarding house where I live
Things are getting very old.
Long gray hairs in the butter,
And the cheese is green with mold,
When the dog died we had sausage,
When the cat died, catnip tea.
When the landlord died I left it;
Spareribs are too much for me.
I kind of understand why they want to keep anonymous, but they have my sense of humor.