It started with me forwarding a not very appropriate text message picture of Mr. Potato Head.
This is the text conversation that followed:
Her – You are twisted. But I love you to pieces
Me – Mama B started it.
Her- Hubs (hers) didn’t appreciate mr. tato head
Me – He would have if it was Mrs. (tato head) on a set of bubbies
Her – Would those be called tater tits? Or Spud buds?
Me – I guess it would depend on their size
Her – I guess mine would be loaded and twice baked
Me – So that makes mine grandma’s lumpy mashed literally and figuratively.
My apologies to those who will never be able to look at potatos the same way ever again.
I miss her so.