Every year for Christmas the BFF gives me the Bag O’Crap. The Bag O’Crap is filled with awesome shit that makes me laugh, like my Buddha Belly Bookends and the sarcastic 8-ball and The Villain’s Guide to Better Living and my Sigmund Freud action figure. And most of it lives on my desk at work and cheers me up when I need it, which is pretty much all the time because hello, I work in a building that smells like farts so yeah, I hold on to whatever little nuggets of joy I can find. You would, too.
Anyway, every Christmas the Bag O’Crap is pretty much my favorite gift. Because who needs that diamond-encrusted Rolex when you’ve got Irish Accent Breath Spray?
This year the Bag O’Crap included books like Very Nice Ways to Say Very Bad Things (favorites so far: “pshaw,” “Lord love a duck”) and The History of Farts. There was also some little stuff like chocolate truffles (YUM) and a bottle of cranberry body lotion, which I actually like a lot even though I stand firmly against the presence of cranberry sauce on any Thanksgiving table. (It’s JELLY, y’all. You’re putting JELLY on your turkey. Gross.)
Hey, that reminds me of the time the BFF and I did Spa Day. Spa Day included lunch and a “Heavenly Body Wrap” along with the usual mani-pedi-facial stuff and we were super excited because neither one of us knew what a “Heavenly Body Wrap” WAS but it sounded…well, you know. And the first half of the day was great because the Overly Made Up Googly Eyed Spa Hostess brought us mimosas and we were laughing about our janky gross toes while the pedicurists sanded them down, but then it got scary because they sent us to separate rooms that were really dark and they made us get naked and covered us in weird lotion and mummy-wrapped us in really big sheets of Saran Wrap and pointed hot lights at us and left us there to bake. And that was the “Heavenly Body Wrap,” apparently. And we were confused because it wasn’t like heaven at all –in fact, we felt a lot like burritos under the Taco Bell lamp – and they left us there for about 30 minutes and my nose itched for most of it so let me tell you, that was one fucked-up 30 minutes, people.
Finally they unwrapped us and let us see each other again and we were both so relieved to be reunited that we hugged and cried between extra big gulps of water because we were a dehydrated from all that baking. And then Overly Made Up Googly Eyed Spa Hostess led us into this weird room with nothing but a table and two chairs and a dying fern. And she brought us a bottle of red wine, which we immediately drank, and once we were good and drunk she brought us two turkey and jelly sandwiches.
TURKEY, y’all. And JELLY. SANDWICHES. Seriously. We examined them for a while to make sure we were actually looking at turkey and jelly sandwiches, and we definitely were. So we yelled for Overly Made Up Googly Eyed Spa Hostess to come back and she did but she looked kind of irritated and we were all, “Um, what the fuck is this?” and she was all, “What the fuck is what?” and we were all, “Why did you give us turkey and jelly sandwiches?” and she got all huffy and said, “That’s not jelly, it’s cranberry sauce” and her eyes got even more googly so we were all, “Oh, well then, okay,” hoping she would just go away. And she did. And the second that door closed behind her, we LOST. OUR. SHIT.
I don’t know if we were emotionally exhausted from everything that had happened that day, from the high of the janky toes to the low of the scary burrito-Saran Wrap experience? Or maybe it was just all that red wine catching up with us. But whatever it was, it ALL came gushing out and we laughed so hard that our bellies hurt and we were rolling on the floor and knee slapping and tears were coming out and everything. And finally Overly Made Up Googly Eyed Spa Hostess came in and was all, “Okay, what is your PROBLEM?!?” and we were all, “BWAAAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!” totally up in her face until she got scared and left. And we never ate our sandwiches. But one of us (okay, me) DID barf up a bunch of red wine into the dying fern pot, while the other one held her hair.
Best. Spa day. EVER.
I can’t remember why that story seemed important because it really doesn’t have anything to do with my point, which is that I have extraordinarily strong toenails. Well okay, that’s one of many points. I seem to have a lot of points today.
Anyway my CURRENT point is that this year’s Bag O’Crap included a cute little pedicure set, with a foot-shaped toenail clipper and sparkly foam toe-separator thingies. And last night I decided to do use it because my toes were even jankier than they were on Spa Day and that’s saying something. And I’d already spent all my money on shit I found through Groupon so the little pedicure set was pretty much my only option.
Or at least it was, until I broke the toenail clippers with my extraordinarily strong toenails.
JESUS, this is long. I’m sorry. I just have so many points to make, it’s hard to keep track of them all. This is what happens when I go so long between posts. I lose focus.
Let me make it easy for you and sum it all up.
- The Bag O’Crap is the best present ever.
- The BFF is the best friend ever.
- My office building smells like farts.
- Cranberry sauce = JELLY
- My toenails are remarkably strong. And still janky.
You’re welcome. Love,Stumble it!