Terrified Pickles!

When my mother sends me things in the mail, she's not trying to be weird. It just ends up that way, every single time.

My friend Melissa puts effort into it. When she sent me Snap-a-Party plastic ware last year for no particular reason or occasion, I didn't think it was strange. I just started planning the events for which I might use the gift, which came complete with napkin rings and toothpicks.

And, when I recently received a misshapen package in the mail from Alaska, I was delighted with its contents:

The Jesus band-aids are especially useful right now. But no one has called me on my hamburger.


UPDATE: After I thanked her for the Hannah Montana pen (which plays music), Melissa replied:

"The lady at the post office asked what I got you for your birthday, and when I told her, she asked how old you were. After I said you were 30, she responded (while shaking her head in an 'I'm disappointed in you' way), "Well, it's the thought that counts."