I love noisemakers; siren whistles are my favorite. They make a happy noise that sounds a little like… a siren, WHOOOOOOPPWEEEEEENNUUUUuuuuuuuuu! I ordered some for the wedding, and was giddy when they arrived. I opened the box and ran my (thoroughly washed) hands through the wealth of siren whistles at my disposal. Then I grabbed a shiny silver whistle for a trial run. I brought it to my expectant lips and gave it a go. The whistle coughed and then responded with a weak, fweeeeee. It sounded not unlike a dying baby seal. They’re so bad that Bryan and I have taken to blowing on them sarcastically.
“I’ve scheduled our appointment for the honeymoon innoculations… fweeeeeee.”
“I can’t wait until Schwarzenegger is our governor… fweeeeee.”
The things actually seem to be wheezing. Of course, now we find them so amusing that we’ve become attached. This means that we’ll most certainly be exiting the church to a chorus of fweeeee.