Friday, March 06, 2009

oops....sorry Mr. Potato Head!?

All this week, it seems like I’ve been having flashback memories of my childhood, so I would like to end this weeks posts with yet another Little Ronnie memorabilia.

I was surfing the Internet the other night, looking for some graphics, when I suddenly spotted an image of the fabulous….Mr. Potato Head.

I FREAKED!

You see, Mr. Potato Head use to be one of my favorite toys.

However, when I was kiddo, Mr. Potato Head didn't come with a plastic head. You actually had to use a REAL potato.

And it was so much fun, because I could use various potato sizes; making his head big or small.

And sometimes when my mother didn’t have any potato’s, I would get creative and use an apple or a banana instead.

*please note: whenever I used a banana…he resembled a Mr. Dick Head.

Now the only drawback about using a real potato, was that I would end up getting potato juice everywhere, from poking his head with so many holes.

You see, I’m a Libra with OCD…so I could never make up my mind about how I wanted to arrange his face.

Over and over again I would create-a-look and then change my mind, because his lips were a little too high or his ears were a little too low.

So by the time I got finished with him…he ended up looking like someone shot him with a BB gun.

I’ll never forget the time when I finished playing with Mr. Potato Head, and instead of leaving him out, I placed him back in the box, and then put the box into the toy chest in our playroom.

I guess it must have been about five or six days before I ever played with him again, so there he sat inside in a dark box, slowly rotting and fermenting.

Little by little, the playroom started permeating with a funky odor. And one day my mother walked in while I was playing my Petula Clark records and said, “What’s that odor, Ronnie? It smells like something died in here.”

I smelled it too, but it never dawned on me about Mr. Potato Head.

My mother sniffed and sniffed around, until she got close to the toy chest and said, “I think it’s coming from in here.” So she opened it and began searching through everything. And when she got to the Mr. Potato Head box, she finally discovered where the odor was coming from.

My eyes widen in horror, as poor Mr. Potato Head lay there…with his eyes, nose, ears, mouth and little plastic body all protruding from his head, which was now the size of a raisin.

Oh. My. God.

I was devistated.

I had accidentally killed my favorite spud-bud!

Have a spudtacular weekend, everyone!

X