omg omg omg.
My parents will have been married thirty years on Monday. To quote Joe Biden, that's a big fucking deal.
I should do something, right? But what should I do? They're morose, hip people and they don't like ostentatious displays of emotion. They're like Vulcans if Vulcans were middle-class yuppies and lived in the Rust Belt.
I'm thinking baked goods. Are we thinking baked goods?
I could make a lemon-buttermilk cake and write something snarky on it ("My Parents Had Sex and All I Got Was This Shitty Life?") Or I could make a photo collage of all of the pictures of them when they were dating in the late '70s where they look the most like early twenty-first-century hipsters.
Actually, both might be a good option.
I should do something, right? But what should I do? They're morose, hip people and they don't like ostentatious displays of emotion. They're like Vulcans if Vulcans were middle-class yuppies and lived in the Rust Belt.
I'm thinking baked goods. Are we thinking baked goods?
I could make a lemon-buttermilk cake and write something snarky on it ("My Parents Had Sex and All I Got Was This Shitty Life?") Or I could make a photo collage of all of the pictures of them when they were dating in the late '70s where they look the most like early twenty-first-century hipsters.
Actually, both might be a good option.