I like otters. I like them like Madonna likes ballplayers.

So it wasn't so surprising that, while visiting the Monterey Bay Aquarium, I made a beeline for the sea otter exhibit. They're like floating teddy bears. And even though I know each and every one possesses the jaw strength to rip the fender off a Buick, my brain still goes, "Awww. Fuzzy!"

After a few minutes, I really felt like one of these fur-coated, homicidal maniacs and I had bonded.

He zoomed past me on his back, clutching an afternoon snack in his paws. I, in a fit of exuberance, jumped forward. I was excited, I was gleeful, I smacked my head into the glass so hard it was a full count of three before I was lucid enough to piece together the events.

My brain was bouncing around in my skull. The tank shook, and my husband was laughing so hard I sincerely hoped he'd pee his pants.

Husband: (drying his eyes) "That was awesome!"

Me: "I hate you."

Husband: "You have a BIG red spot on your forehead."

Me: "When you're not looking, I spit in your food."

Husband: "You can have an ice cream cone if you want."

Me: "Chocolate?"

Husband: "Okay, chocolate."