Okay, y'all. The Boy told me to share this with you (probably so that I would stop talking about it to him):

Our sewer district seems to be running a direct-mail PR campaign (I don't know why, since it's not like we can *choose* what sewer district we have). So we got mail from them today, and printed on the outside of the envelope was, in a retro-type font, "IMPORTANT INFORMATION INSIDE!"

The Boy commented that the font choice looked like campy horror-movie font, or "Halloween font." I made my usual disparaging remark that most people choose their fonts unwisely/indiscrimately and don't think about the effect it has.

I was very wrong; they totally thought about the effect. We now have a Metropolitan Sewer District campy retro refrigerator magnet. I LOVE IT!!! Seriously.

What I can't stop talking about though, is the postcard the magnet was attached to. The other side of the card is a picture of a toilet in a basement with almost a foot of water on the floor. The toilet is old and icky looking, the seat is up, and there's obvious black stuff on the rim.

WHAT.

The sewer has backed up, making the toilet run over, and it has obvious black stuff on the rim. That means that their PR material is a POSTCARD OF HUMAN POO. That's simultaneously disgusting, hilarious, and the most brilliant thing I've heard of all day.

Ok , so I laughed hard enough so Matt had to see what I was laughing at. He finds it disturbing. I find it ridiculous.

But I love the magnet.

But I love the magnet.

The magnet is MADE OF AWESOME. The poo postcard *is* disturbing, but the idea that the PR/ad firm the sewer district hired got to sit around in a conference room and think of ideas, and a nasty toilet with poo on it was the best idea they could come up with -- it makes me laugh and laugh.

I mean, what happens if people object? It's not like they can go find another sewer district to serve them! We're lucky they didn't send us a postcard of Two Girls, One Cup.

I should note for the record that I'm TOTALLY sending the postcard to my brother.

of course you are. It has to be.

Hil, you have a good mom. I'm sorry you're hurting, though.

Teppy, that's made of awesome.

We're lucky they didn't send us a postcard of Two Girls, One Cup.

Still not Googling that.

I suspect I could believe I was having a nice, calm, measured breakup, right up until the point at which I hit him in the head with an iron skillet.

I wonder if Emeril Lagasse would replace it for you?

Still not Googling that

Go on, DCJ. Man up. What's the worst that could happen?

ewwww.... don't do it. ita's bored right now.