My in-laws are the kind of people who always get the best gifts for X-Mas. They even get stocking stuffers right. They make it look effortless, all while I’m stumbling around stores the week before Christmas, pulling random crap off the “As Seen On TV” shelf.
This year, along with smoked almonds, gummies bears, and assorted yummies, they gave my husband and I each a box of refridgerator* magnets. He got “A Little Box of Obscenities” and I got “A Little Box of Good Cheer.”
This led to some discussion as to whether there had been a mix-up. I’m a notorious potty mouth. I don’t even bother with the usual “mind your elders” bullshit. I drop the f-bomb around my mother and in-laws all the time. (In my defense, my mother, who likes to act the part of “lady,” is a fan of “Well, fuck it.”)
I am, however, a pessimist. The glass isn’t just half full. It’s losing volume, evaporation happenin’ now. A little good cheer could do me some good.
Good cheer and obscenities go together like chocolate and vanilla, so husband and I combined our super-twin powers and made this.
*No matter how many times I write the word, I always misspell “refridgerator.” D’oh! Fuck!
