Texts with my sister this morning:
Lisa: Do you remember these cards that we got that we weren’t allowed to use because we were supposed to save them? Well, I saved them. So at what point can I spend this $1.90? And what to spend it on at this point? A single meximelt at Taco Bell? Less than a half gallon of gas? “Yes, sir, I’d like to buy $1.90 of gas in loose change that I’ve been carrying around since 1981.”
The snowman one? Not even signed.
me: I remember having one with a kitty on it that had 20 dimes. I think I did actually spend it on gas in the 90s.
Lisa: Smart. Back when that bought more than 14 drops of gas. But actually read the snowman text. It’s oddly threatening. About what I’d expect from a hostile snow person.
me: Frosty: I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE. I’M INSIDE YOUR HOUSE.
Lisa: Yes, but it’s warm here so I think he’s the puddle I just stepped in and thought was dog pee. Way to commit, Frosty.
Me: THIS IS A CRIME SCENE, MA’AM. STEP OUT OF THE CORPSE.
Lisa: But here’s the $1.90 that he left you for your trouble. He’s not a monster. Only misunderstood. Like Frankenstien.
me: A buck 90 in dimes that might be soaked in dog urine or snowman remains. MERRY CHRISTMAS.
Lisa: ‘Tis the season.
me: I just asked Victor if he ever got coin cards when he was a kid and he was like, “I’ve never even seen those before. What kind of shitty-ass gift is ‘dimes on paper’?
Lisa: My husband said he got them but the were “collector’s coins”. He’s bougie.
me: Victor just said he got cards with slots for dollars. Fuckin’ Daddy Warbucks over here.
This is all going on the blog.
Lisa: I might know where you can get $1.90 to pay the hosting service.
me: IT’S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE.
Not a very impressive one, but still.
Lisa: You take what YOU get and YOU like it.
Sorry. Hostile snowman text is contagious.