Don’t Hate Me…

Land O Lakes Girlie

…because I enjoy middle school humor.  Recognize her?  She’s the Land O’Lakes lady, not to be confused with the chic who insisted “You call it corn; we call it maize” in the 1970s Mazola TV ad campaigns.

This post last week by a blogger who sometimes makes me laugh so hard I almost pee my pants still makes me grin.  I don’t know Lisa-the-blogger except through social media, thanks in no small part to a creative cyber-community writer Jon Katz  has built over the last year or so.  But I think her writing is brilliant and spot on.  Aside from the plain old thigh-slappng hilarity her posts evoke, she also conveys perfectly life in the man cave when you are not one of them.  I know, because I raised one, and tolerated another who was supposed to be the other grown up in the house but fell pretty short of the mark–stories for another day. (Oh, and our dog was a guy, too.)

The point being, I’m all down with this stuff.  So last Saturday when I grabbed a new box of butter out of the fridge the image of Ms. Land O’Lakes tapped me on the shoulder and said, Go ahead…DO it.  I gingerly asked HCB, as he sat unsuspectingly on the sofa with a crossword, whether he, erm, *knew* about the Land O’Lakes Lady.


You know, I said, on the butter box.

Nope, he said.

While he was distracted with his newspaper I summoned my inner fifth grader.  Et voilà!  I give you Land O’Lakes Squaw:

IMG_20140119_193118Okay, so you obviously cut away the box she is holding and then bend the section of the image with her knees up and backwards so they align with the cutout.  Instant nekkid boobs.  HCB only shook his head and rolled his eyes, though he was obviously jealous he had not thought of this first.

Because his reaction was so staid and calm–which is completely unlike him–I decided to take further action.  So I hid L.O.L. Squaw in his wallet, with just a little of her peeking over the top of a credit card pocket, and said nothing.  A few days later, when he was a hundred miles away, he had a bit of a surprise at the bank.

See?  I can be a fifth grader like nobody’s bidness.

Not to be outdone, HCB got me back today.  This morning when I took the lid off the glass apothecary jar for a cotton ball, who do you s’pose was gazing up at me?

To be continued, gentle readers….

2 thoughts on “Don’t Hate Me…

  1. I remember doing this (after 5th grade, but before now), but I think we somehow did it by folding rather than cutting the picture? Or maybe it had something to do with folding a dollar bill… now I must, thanks to YOUR silliness, search the internet 🙂

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