The Goat and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary in November. To commemorate the occasion, the Goat gave me a gift.
"ooh!" I exclaimed as he handed me the wrapped package.
Inside were three bags of m&m's, about six or seven ounces each. But these weren't like other m&m's. They had little pictures on them--pictures of me and the Goat!
The m&m's won't last forever, we all know this. No matter how long they do last, however, one thing's for sure: eating m&m's with your picture on them never ever ever gets old.
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9 comments:
Belated Congrats
Congrats! Great gift :)
We just celebrated our 20 year as well. In the words of my beloved, "That's a long time."
Congratulations!Creative gift for a creative spouse.
They have customized M&Ms now? I'm behind the times.
That's a long time. Pretty Cool. I just broke my new years resolution of only posting comments on the internet to funny cat videos.
RJ
Congratulations Erin & Goat. Living 20 years with ANY human deserves it.
Thanks gang.
My marriage has seen 16 of the happiest years of my life. But I've been married 22 years.
Good job, Eric. We think a little bit alike-I went to Staples to order Mrs-O-Mine a brass nameplate for her home office. I'm still a little brassed off that I didn't think of it in time for Christmas. I considered getting her a wall plaque to read "The Offices Of Mrs-O-Mine" as an homage to "The Offices Of Erin-O'Brien" but there's not a suitable place to hang one.
While I'm thinking of it, a couple of M&M questions: were they regular size M&Ms,what was the minimum order and what was turnaround time? I have been thinking of e-mailing Mars candy to see if they'll sell me selected flavors of Skittles in bulk.
But that's not why I called:
@ Erin-I know your love of Kitsch, Kornball and (K)vintage. (Sorry, no 'k' homonym for 'vintage')Kool stuff, in other words.
Anyway, for all those glorious things and more try the "Olga's House of Shame" tumblr. I s-tumblr-ed upon it from God-knows-what link but I made a point of writing it down so I can re-visit it. It's GREAT STUFF!!!You've got pulp fetish mag cover art,you've got cantilevered bras and industrial-strength girdles, you've got a photo featuring six legs, two vajayjays, and apparently three heads under a blanket. You've got nude-except-for-heels housework, you've got floral pasties and chrome, you've got topless ventriloquists and ventriloquist's dummies identical to the one in that creepy Cliff Robertson Twilight Zone episode that scared the fuck out of me when I was seven or eight. Mega-beehives, decor which evokes'Ozzie and Harriet', decor which inspires nausea, Burlesque dancers on stage and on promo handbills, Mamie-Mother-Van-Fucking-Doren, Bettie Page getting a spanking, the Worst Fake Christmas Trees You'll Ever See, They Look Like Green Pipe Cleaners Just Like Darren McGavin Said In A Christmas Story, you've got Fan Dancers, you've got Villers-Bocage-like hedgerows* of pubic hair which must have made cunnilingus akin to flossing, a stripper on a spring-mounted hobby horse, there are women's foundation garments that would could withstand the most determined full-court press ever mounted by a penis, you've got a Burlesque act with a bird-handler wearing a skirt maybe 40 feet in circumference, there's various extreme lingerie-clad contortionists, you've got cat-fights and Bettie Page again, pitching instead of catching this time. You've got a model painted gold and posed in a store window to look like a mannequin. You've got Kelly guDAMN Evertts, you've got Carol Em-Effin'Doda, you've got Judy damn-GLORIOUS Kean, you've got Russ Meyer survivor Kitten Freakin' Natividad, fer cryin' out loud. You've got boobs-and-bongos acts, and you've got sombreros and straw boaters and titties all in the same photo. You've got some chiquitas with teeth ground down Dracula-like, and you've got rotary phones heavy enough to crush a bison's skull.
Here's what you don't have: freakishly large breasts or labia minora. They're as rare as a sober Soviet. 99.995% natties here, kids. The '40s and '50s were a silicon-free zone.
Alas, all is not perfect here in this Newtopia. All of the girls aren't created equally-fact is, they're not girls at all. Fear not, intrepid spelunkers, there are some tell-tale signs to help save you from breaking out the Palma Sutra for Glen instead of Glenda.** There's "Coulter's Sign", an Adam's apple that looks more like an Adam's pumpkin, overly broad hands, eyebrows noticeably off-color from the hair color, and poorly-applied lipstick.
Well, that's all kids. I started typing this up last night and had to keep trying to complete it all damn day long. But it was important work and I hope you all will be as delighted with Olga as I am.
MR
7:15 pt II-sorry, I ran out of space. that's never hqappened before.
*Al TRAG should recognize the Villers-Bocage reference
** Let us have have a moment of silence for the great auteur and fashion-horse Ed Wood.
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