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“Can’t we get something in the mail besides bills, bills, bills?” Mr. Candy had grumbled earlier this week. Ask and you shall receive, my dear hubby. Because an exciting offer just arrived for you in our mailbox!
I handed this to Mr. C, tears streaming down my face. Tears of laughter, that is.
“This is a dark day for you,” I warned.
“Why? ARE WE OUT OF HERSHEY’S SYRUP?” he cried in horror. Mr. Candy simply cannot get through an evening without chugging a massive glass of chocolate milk.
“No. Just… look at your mail.” An actual snort of laughter may have followed. I can neither confirm nor deny whether this embarrassing snort occurred.
“Oh god. What the –? This is not good. This is not good,” Mr. Candy kept mumbling. Then he looked at me. “You are just loving this, aren’t you?”
I may or may not have been holding my legs together to avoid peeing myself laughing at this point.
“I guess 35 is the new 55!” I declared, laughing at my own joke as I so often do. “It was probably your Huey Lewis CD collection that tipped them off…”
“I hope you DO pee your pants,” my hubby sniffed before shuffling off to the kitchen to console himself with TWO glasses of chocolate milk.
Please. I think we all know if anybody is going to be peeing his/her pants around here, it’s going to be the AARP member.