Fresh from the burn unit
Exhibit A
Jim and I were cleaning the rooms upstairs this week, and among the other treasures we unearthed we found Burn Victims Gumby and Pokey (and if you don't know how they got that way, read the tale of my bastardly, tchotchke-burnin' husband here).
Both Gumby and Pokey still have difficulty with mobility, hence the fact that they've been in a box in my office for 15 years or so. Being as this is my anniversary week (16 years on Friday), I thought I'd share some of the romance that's kept things magic for my marriage.
Romance, flaming tchotchkes, and strategically worn cotton undergarments will make every day seem like a honeymoon.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 8:47 AM
6 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
Isn't there an easier way to do black-face?
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Friction burns from hot monkey luv...
Lord, have mercy. After your email warning, I came here with fear and trembling. Then, when I saw Gumby... I must confess, I was HAPPY, yes, HAPPY to learn that the DARKNESS which had befallen him was the result of FIRE, and not of......of.........well, you know....other dark situations he's been forced into lately....
What have you done to me?
Geez, I've been trying to comment all morning. Blogger is a bitch again today, I see.
Okay, Bucky. So you're saying...this is what Gumby and Pokey look like after being in your, um, BOX??
Hon, seriously, you should see the gynecologist, like, immediately.
[Oh, and you should know that what's currently running through my head on an endless loop is, "Burn, Gumby, burn! Disco inferno! Burn, Gumby, burn!"]
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