Yep.
Large. Blue. Glass. Snail. Vase.
It’s supposed to be art. Made by a seriously misguided glass blower from Michigan.
Join me out on a limb for a moment here: Can we agree that snails are, by and large, not attractive creatures?
Let’s scoot out just a smidge more and state that any form of snail-based art would therefore not be attractive, either. Right?
So a vase. Shaped like a snail. Made out of blue glass. Is not good.
Seriously.
If Dr. Seuss had a dildo, it would look just like this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The thing sat in its box for a week before I put it on the kitchen counter in hopes we might gain some shallow appreciation for this eclectic piece of invertebrate art.
Not so much.
Somehow the snail vase made his way upstairs to my side of the bathroom with several tampons artfully arranged in it.
I left him there, afraid of where he might go next.
The next day the tampons were gone and that silly little snail was holding my toothbrush.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
His, Hedy? He? Him?
Yep. There’s no way something shaped like that could be female.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay, so this is how it’s going to be, I thought, tucking the snail neatly into Jim’s underwear drawer.
The damn thing was back downstairs peeking outta my computer bag the next morning.
So then the snail visited Jim’s new Christmas coffee maker.
“Where is it?” he asked, after the thing had gone missing for nearly three days.
“I don’t know but I do know that I’m returning at least one of your Chris
tmas gifts.”~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seriously.
If Dr. Seuss had a bong (and I suspect he did), it would look just like this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's been going on for two weeks. For a snail, this ugly little dude sure gets around.
Yesterday, inspiration hit. Before leaving for work, I snuck the snail into Jim’s car, sitting him squarely on the console.
On the train a half hour later, my phone vibrates with a rare, early morning text from Jim:
“Mollusk scared the crap out of me.”
You know I normally relish that rare ride alone into the city. But yesterday it did me no good.
As I sat. Laughing maniacally. For the entire 50-minute trip to the city.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Crazy Train – Ozzy Osbourne
I am reading: World Without End by Ken Follett (unbelievably good)
And I am: Waiting for the Return of the Mollusk
6 comments:
You jammed tampons into a male, blown glass, Dr. Suess-esque, phallus-snail?
Remind me not to piss you off.
Or make you think I am ugly and useless.
I wasn't the one who got creative with the tampons, that was Jim. And I'd never in a million years think you're ugly or useless. :)
I'm not sure if this is going to paste into the comment; but, this is a snail: nope, it didn't; but, it is a happy little creature with a shell. Your's looks more like a squid with short tenticles.
Remember, it's the thought that counts.
When hide and go seek gets tiresome, and you'd much rather throw the slothful-slug-like freak out on those damn electrical wires,
Call out a request for some creative blues from your dear fabulous friend Msmoo,
and by using some of your own wonderful God given marketing gifts, all the while trying not to stir up any family rifts (cause then you're avoiding those freaking damn dysfunctional tifts).
Please bow your head with the faith of your choice, using your words as your wonderful thought provoking voice, scream out REALLY REALLY loud, "SAY! THANK GOD FOR THE SELLING OPTION OF THAT WEBSITE EBAY!! Dear Hubby Jim, the version of Blue has left us finally, in the form of that awful brown matter that looks quite like poo-poo."
Elizabeth
Is that a shell-less snail?
With a very long tail?
I can't tell....
Oh, what the hell!
In keeping peace for family sake.
It could just "accidentally" break.
"Oh, so sorry, if was our fav!"
"We showed all our friends - we did rave!"
But Grommie's tail did wag too hard;
Sending it onto the floor into shards.
Your gift was great - but oh, we couldn't.
Accept a duplicate - you, you shouldn't?!?!
I just wanted to let everyone know that your parents didn't buy the snail! And Dave is right again, it is the thought that counts.
Love,
Mom
Post a Comment