[This is a blog post I wrote for MySpace on 4/9/2007 6:37:00 PM. To see the story behind why this is here and for links to the rest of the posts, check out the main MySpace page here on Anita’s Notebook.]

So…

Jennifer says, ‘This is the most expensive Easter basket I’ve ever gotten you!’ Then she gives me that look. The haha I know something you don’t look. Like she’s bursting at the seams from some hillarious unspoken joke.

I look at the Easter basket.

EasterBasket

Leonardo Da Bunny!!!! He’s so cute. Too cute to eat. Almost.
Yeah. Okay. I mean it does have more candy in it than usual. I guess. Or maybe the candy is pricier. Or something.

So we do our thing, going through the Easter candy and little goofy toys. I have a hard time choosing between playing with the mini Etch A Sketch or the incredibly dangerous paddle ball thingy. (The killer paddle ball wins).

And when we got done with all that I finish making our dinners, ’cause I’m starving half to death and I know Jennifer’s pretty hungry too. I give her her food to take downstairs and get my stuff…

‘Hey don’t you want to take your Easter basket downstairs??’ she says.

I look down at the plate of food I got in one hand and my drink in the other hand.

‘No, not really.’

‘Oh. Are you sure? ‘Cause we’ll probably want to have the candy downstairs.’

‘No that’s okay I’ll get it later.’

‘Really? ‘Cause I can make two trips and bring the food down while you get the basket.’

And I’m thinking: Jesus woman! I’m freaking starving to death here holding a perfectly good sandwich on my plate. Which I could be eating at this very moment. But I’m not. Because you want me to take the basket down. For no good reason. Or so I thought.

‘No darling, I’ll get it later…I mean we’re not going to eat any candy until we’re done with dinner anyway right?’

‘Yeah I guess.’ she says looking all disappointed.’Just remember that the handle on the basket is broken, so pick it up by the bottom ‘kay?’ Then she gives me the eeeeeeee bursting at the seams look again.

‘Okay.’ And I go on my way not thinking any more of it.

Yeah. Those of you who’ve read the birthday blog know that Jennifer is tricky and not to be trusted lol. But I forgot about all that and anyway it was Easter. Easter is a safe and straightforward day where nothing unexpected ever happens. Or so I thought.

Fast forward. We’re done with dinner and I’m happy in the knowledge that in fact I’m not going to die of starvation after all. Sitting on the couch playing whatever on the computer…and Jennifer keeps shooting me these looks.

What? Oh yeah. The basket. Gotta get the basket.

‘Gonna go get the thing now darling, want anything else from upstairs?’

‘No.’ But it wasn’t just a regular No, it was more of a…well…teehehe kind of No.

I run upstairs and look at the Easter basket. Seems safe. Happy smiling chocolate bunnies and other assorted candies sitting calmly in a non-threatening pile. I go to pick up the basket (by the bottom of course, because the handle’s broken) and…

…….

…..

..

Damn! This thing weighs like five fucking pounds. I get it downstairs and I’m like:

‘Jesus darling what the hell is in this thing??’

She gets the eeeeee look and says, ‘Look and see.’

So I take the candy off the top and clear away the plastic Easter grass…

……

…..

..

Candy. And there's a lot of it. Guess you didn't need me to tell you that tho.

‘Holy crap that’s a lot of candy darling!’

She starts giggling and turning red. ‘Yeah. I told you it was the most expensive one I’ve ever gotten. Go ahead and look around, there’s all different kinds of candy in there.’

‘Um, okay.’

And I’m thinking: Well I mean I can easily see what kind of candy there is and everything…there’s not really a need to go digging through it all…kind of a pain actually…but oh well it’ll make her happy so why not. So I shuffle through the pile…

……..

…..

….

..

.

I heart my iPod.

I don’t know what the look on my face was like but it made Jennifer burst into hysterical laughter lol. I mean she was all red and had to cover her face it was crazy.

‘Do you like it? I thought you might make me take it back.’ she says.

Oh yeah right. At 8 Gigs there’s no way I’m parting with this thing ever. Okay maybe not ever, but it’s gonna be a while.

The moral of the story: No Easter basket is safe!

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