My oldest friend, Hamster, is back in town with her family for a visit. Come to find out, she doesn’t really appreciate being called Hamster, but it’s just too perfect, seeing as a) It’s a perfect bastardization of her actual last name; b) I made her buy a pet hamster when we lived in the dorm together freshman year. She hated the thing. One day it disappeared. Just vanished from it’s cage. I’m not sure I remember the REAL story, but I’m pretty sure she let it loose in the halls one night. I never DID pay her back …; and c) I can’t help but think of Richard Gere when I say her name. And claustrophobic gerbils. Which makes the 11-year-old boy in me snort. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, Google it. I ain’t tellin’ ya.
Anyhoo, we hooked up with them the other night at a local joint, and when MP and Hamster’s daughter donned Buffalo Princess Crowns, I broke out the camera phone and told the girls to smile.
Look how well Hamster’s daughter plays along.
Look how well MP… displays the food in her mouth.
See how Hamster’s daughter’s eyes are blacked out? A few years back, when Hamster’s son was a baby, she dressed him in what she considered an adorable sweater. An adorable sweater covered in hearts. In fact, she thought it was SO cute, she emailed a photo to a few friends.
Months later, Hamster receives an email with the subject line “Cheesy Baby Clothes” or some such thing. Turns out it had been making it’s way around the web. And there, along with dozens of babies dressed in criminally heinous ensembles, is her boy. In his heart sweater.
She never DID find out how it happened. And needless to say, she’s more than a little leery about putting her kids’ photos on the web.
I tell you this in the hopes it will serve as a cautionary tale. If you insist on wearing anything remotely resembling a heart sweater, for God’s sake, keep it to yourself. That shite’s just a BAD idea all day long.