Nothing Says “I Love You” Like …

… a Five-Pound Gummy Bear. Right? Wrong! (again)

Five-Pound Bear. Please excuse the bad photo and lack of photos. I am currently battling a gnarly eye infection that has distorted my vision so much that I can't see enough to read a book or drive. My computer monitor is currently set to an annoying "HUGE" setting so I can see enough to post.

Many months ago I found this gem on-line and laughed so hard that I cried. It had everything required to make it a prime candidate for a silly treat for Bird – ridiculous size, hilarious packaging, short shelf-life (meaning it won’t live in a  corner for 10 years like, say, my enormous pile of fake poo that makes a fart sound when you walk by), and it is deliciously bizarre.

I filed this little guy away in my “List of things to Snail-Mail Someone” and then went about my day.

Two weeks ago I went to Louisville on business, then flew to Austin, Texas for a three-day weekend with Aden. During this time my poor, sweet husband had to give his qualifying talk (a big, stressful monster of a talk on math that “qualifies” you to be an official PhD candidate). The day after his talk he would spend 6 hours re-taking the GRE as his scores are old and no longer valid. When I left the house Wednesday morning he was exhausted and stressed to the max.

Being the good wife that I am, I had anticipated his situation and pre-ordered a hilarious snail-mail surprise to help ease his academic woes and remind him of my love and good humor.

On Wednesday night, the evening before his qualifying talk, I phoned home expecting his laughing self to answer the phone “You silly Belle! Thank you so much for my Snail Mail surprise! I love you!”

Instead, a very stressed man greeted me. We talked a little, and then I asked if any packages had arrived. Yes, some photos I ordered came and some ridiculously heavy box.

“Whom is the box addressed to?” I asked.

“Me.”

“Did you open it?”

“No. You told me not to open boxes.”

“Bird, I asked you not to open boxes addressed to me as they could be gifts for you. You should open YOUR packages. Go open the box. I’m curious what it is…”

And then I stifled giggles as my wonderful and stressed husband opened this 5-pound gummy bear and groaned.

“Oh my god. What is this? Who the heck sent this to me! Oh I wish you could see how creepy this is!”

By this time any laughter I had been stifling had retreated and my mind was reeling – how could this not be funny??? FIVE POUND GUMMY BEAR! Come on Husband!

“Is there a note in the box?” I asked meekly.

And then he saw the note I had written with the bear, “I love you Beary much! Good luck tomorrow! Love, Belle”

The rest of the conversation was awkward, as I tried to explain why the bear was funny, how it was intended to give him a good laugh before his talk and reminded him that there is more to life than math – like love, humor and gigantic candy bears. As we hung up I told him that, despite the creepy package, I did love him Very much and would send good vibes in the morning.

I’m still baffled how the gummy bear was a total miss. I understand why the Dirty Underwear Safe was a fail gift – it had no descriptive packaging. But the bear, it was clearly labeled. This leads me to the conclusion that my humor is not just on another level than the rest of the world, it might be in another galaxy. Somewhere, light-years away, a little green dude is reading this and laughing hysterically. And this gives me great comfort.

In the meantime, the Five-Pound Gummy Bear lies on my antique sideboard, looking more like moldy corpse on display than a huge piece of candy joy. I think I will have to dress him up for the holidays. Maybe use him as a tree topper… maybe send him to YOU!