Did ya miss me?
Ya missed me, ya missed me, now ya gotta kiss me!
But as I walked along the back wall, lo and behold...
Now, I ask you, why the hell is this woman so happy? I can honestly say that in my 30-plus years of vacuuming experience, not once have I felt such joy when doing this task that I had to throw out my arm in a Broadway-esque pose and say "ta da!" She has such a look of pure bliss on her face as well. And to think, these were the days BEFORE Prozac. She has either been hitting the sauce, or is super-jazzed about cleaning her groovy sunken living room. My bet is on the consumption of many, many Harvey Wallbangers.
Note that the little pink box says "Child tested since 1965" and from the looks of this package, that would have been just one short year ago. Yes, they were actually selling this. But hey, a little botulism is a small, small price to pay for a nostalgic trip down memory lane.
This, I love. This, I almost bought. It is sort of the grouch's answer to a welcome sign. I like the no-nonsense approach. It is kind of like, "Hey, good to see you! Come in, sit a spell! And if you act like a bitch I will throw you right out!"
But I thought it might send the wrong message. Seeing as how my husband likes to tell me I can be abrasive, I guess I should go with a cheery Welcome! sign instead.
And, by the way, to said husband, when he calls me abrasive, I tell him to kiss my ass.
What...? Is that wrong?