It’s a good thing I am not married to my blorg*, because if I were, I would’ve potentially been in heaps of trouble today. I would have forgotten to nuzzle my blorg’s neck upon arriving home from a tough day in my accounting cubicle at Catatonia & Lutz and presenting it with something made of wool and cooper, as would befit our seventh anniversary! I would’ve been comically smashed in the head by, alternately, an enormous rolling pin and a cast iron skillet, both wielded by my roller-headed, tattered-robed, frying-pan-handed blorg-wife!
It’s a good thing I have a very good friend in my long-time reader and friend, Elena from Madrid, who, just this afternoon, reminded me of this important occasion, just as she did last year. So, a big, multi-colored gracias to Elena for saving me from a gigantic lump on my head (like this!) from the beating I would have endured.
To celebrate, I invite you to creep yourself out a little with this charmer from the window display at Lord & Taylor on Fifth Avenue:
Unintentionally Creepy from tofuju on Vimeo.
Happy nightmares!
* Yes, that’s my superfuntime version of “blog”, given that I really don’t like that term, which you would know if you have been reading over the past seven years. Yes, seven years. Go back to the start of this post, post-asterisk, because that’s what this is all about!
I like this kind of corny humour. It sounds like stuff my Dad would say. 🙂 Have you ever actually eaten at this restaurant?
Of course she has eaten at this restaurant – she does the sandwich boards every week in exchange for a free veggie wrap.
No, kidz, I haven’t eaten here. And Brad, my printing is so much neater than the writing on these sandwich boards! “It looks like it’s typewritten!” I’ve been told.
Yeah, I bet your writing looks like Bernard MT Condensed.
How much is Eisenberg’s paying you to keep up this ad? Unless you are on some lovely getaway, I want a new piece of writing today!
Mrs. Z, Eisenberg’s is paying me 36 matzo balls a day to keep this thing going. Plus, until YOU try raising three rambunctious pre-teen boys and maintaining a household and taking college classes and going to work every day and fighting off your husband’s demands to clip his toenails, I won’t let you tell me what to — oh, wait. Um, never mind.
Jodi, you’re so mean to your fans sometimes! I bet if you were a death metal rock star you’d pee all over everyone in the front row. Does anyone else ever have this fantasy? Mrs. Z? Amanda??
I pride myself on being one of the more warped, if not the downright most demented, of Jodi’s intellectual dopplegangers. I’ve seen many a line here and managed to toe across most of them, even jumping across others. I have dragged things down into the gutter, danced on them, then ground the pieces for good measure. I have equally offended everyone, some who have dared reparte’, others who have remained silent.
But Brad? Even I in my ultimate depravity would not have gone there. It simply isn’t kosher, dude.
I might not pee on anybody, but I am this close to doing something crazy (I won’t wear pearls today!) if I see this blog one more day!
Is this a record yet?
Sorry to rain on your parade, Ds.
“Bare arms…” Tee hee. I like it.
That’s not rain, Brad, that’s … (You can’t start “parade” without a “p”.)
WARNING: The Surgeon General has determined coming to this thread without a wetsuit can be hazardous to your health.