I just got a Valentine's Day care package from my mom. In it, she enclosed three kazoos. They are labeled "Renata," "Keith," and "Priscilla."
GOOD.
She also sent three pairs of knee socks, but they are all for me.
Additionally:
keith: http://www.glarkware.com/securestore/c181845p16832531.2.html
renata: priscilla has that shirt
keith: best website ever. thank you for showing me it.
renata: anytime
keith: ooh damn it now I can't wear it on the road trip, otherwise if we both wore it, super awkward.
renata: no do it
renata: and i'll wear my old subway uniform
renata: and
renata: it will be like an act of anti-corporate performance art
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2 comments:
Oh my god. I read this post and was like, I never commented on it, what a great injustice.
And then I thought, oh yeah my mom used to give us stuff on Valentines day.
Followed by oh look a thing about how the UPS didn't deliver something to me from my MOM.
And that is when I learned that in my loneliness, Valentines day is blocked from my memory harder than this guy is repressing all his experiences in a truck stop mens room.
Dude! I was wearing that shirt yesterday! It's the best shirt ever.
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