Nancy Drew Nickerson banged her head against the steering wheel. No no no no no no no no NOOOOOO she screamed quietly in her head.  Her seatbelt was tangled.  This was the final straw.  Nancy's van already sported a broken front bumper and no air conditioning.  She whipped out her cell and texted her two oldest sons. WHO TANGLED THE DRIVERS SEATBELT?????!?!??!?!?!!! Within seconds, in succinct succession came the responses: Not Me. Not me. Nancy wept quietly. Or maybe that was sweat and not tears running down her face; it was 104 degrees after all.  She turned on the engine and began her long drive to pick up the other three children from swimming, tennis, and loom-weaving lessons. All the while listening to the ding ding ding of the charming alarm reminding her of the dangerous risk in not wearing a seatbelt.

Nancy Drew Nickerson walked into her kitchen in the early dawn of the morning to let the Evil Puppy outside.  There, sitting on her clean counter, was a crusty food embedded bowl from her wedding set. "AAAAAGGGGH!" she screamed silently in her head.  "WHO DOES THIS?  WHO DOES THIS???"  She grabbed the half-dried black crayola marker from the dog food bowl, ripped off a Scott's brand paper towel, and scribbled: WHO DOESN'T RINSE THEIR DISH???? and with that, she threw the pup in the kennel, and  went back to bed. Upon rising one hour and 53 minutes later to barking, she ventured into the kitchen.  There, on the Scott's brand paper towel, spelled out neatly in broken stick pretzels was two words: Not Me.