Talk about Smurfs, and they will come to you. Through the USPS...

Yesterday I was emailing with J about the embarrassing fact that I had Smurf-themed bedding and curtains in my room until I was 16 years old. I didn't want it in there that long*! It's just that my mom has a problem getting rid of something that is "perfectly good", so, I had the mortifying experience of making out with a boy while all of the Smurfs watched on in horror**.
In any case, little did I know this would not be the last Smurf-talk of the day.

When I got home, I saw THIS in our mailbox

It's Hefty Smurf. It wasn't for me, but for the Man, whose friend had put it in the box as a message? a compliment? a warning? I don't know...

Either way, yesterday was very...Smurferrific.



*That's what she said. When I was really young I did live and breathe The Smurfs. I freaking loved those blue bastards. I got up at about 6am on Saturdays to watch the hours of Smurf cartoons all with just about the same plot: Smurfs are happy, Gargamel interferes, Smurfs foil Gargamel, Smurfs sing and dance. That Smurfy-shine did wear off when I became a pre-teen and noticed boys and live-action movies...

**Actually, their faces were always frozen in smiles of Smurfy-glee. Like, "Yay! Leslie's gettin' some!"