Hookers and Blow, The Perfect Anniversary Gift

Dogs: great companions, but a poor gift choice.

I’ve been friends with two women since we all had frizzy hair and no boobs. If you are keeping score, that would add up to thirty-one years. So, pretty much forever. When one person needs advice, she can turn to either of the others, and we all frequently do. Last week, one friend was agonizing over the perfect anniversary gift for her husband. She did the only sensible thing and started a group Facebook message. 

I chimed in while I was making dinner. I came in mid-chat, nearly peed my pants, and decided I should share the whole thing with you. You’re welcome. (Unless you are easily offended.) I should state, for the record, that none of this is meant to be taken to heart. Nobody that was part of this conversation actually thought hookers and/or drugs were the perfect anniversary gift. Or any gift. Or appropriate for any other time. Ever. Appropriateness notwithstanding, this is an actual conversation, copied and pasted, only removing names.

Friend #1: Help. Seriously. Friday. My anniversary. What the HELL do I get him for an anniversary gift???

Friend #2: Hookers and blow? 

Friend #1: OH, YEAH BABY! I mean, I want a new couch and dining room table, but that’s not exactly a great anniversary gift.

Me (late to the party, taking too long to come up with a witty response): Hahaha! 

Friend #2: Yes those are great gifts. It’s all about the packaging. If you put a hooker on the couch and the lines of blow on the table

Me: You could do what I do: no gift. Life with me is gift enough. 

Friend #1: Well… I was actually thinking of a dog. But he would f*!$ing kill me.

Me: OMG.

Friend #2: NO DOG.

Friend #1: I know, but it is all Babka and Latke’s fault. I want a dog secretly but I am the only one in my family.

Note: I am so pleased that my dogs inspire others to come up with really bad gift ideas, like live animals, that need to fed, and cared for. I am also glad they inspire others to want adorable, mischievous, smart, snuggly, sometimes-pains-in-the-butt, not destructive dogs. Adopt, don’t shop. OK, back to the hookers and blow..

Friend #1: OK, I think I figured it out. We are going to see Amy Schumer.

Me: With a hooker?

Friend #1: …and a sh!tload of blow.

Friend #2: aaaand, scene!

Me: I think “with hookers and blow” needs to be the new addendum to fortune cookies, instead of the overused, trite “in bed”.

It is good to have had the same friends for so long that you really can discuss anything. Now, go ahead and add “with hookers and blow” to the end of your next fortune cookie.

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