I was at the mall the other day, and stopped at New York Fries (poutine addiction). Their latest ad campaign is a picture of their classic big ol' tub of fries, with the following slogan emblazoned across it:
"Only contains ingredients people can spell"
Ok, not terribly funny in and of itself, but I can practically hear the giggling from the three people in this world who would understand why I laughed so hard I choked on a fry. (In fact, I laughed so hard that Finnigan initially laughed along, but then he began to look concerned and offered me a slobbery, flat, half chewed fry of his own...)
See, my mom can't spell. Like really can't spell. Once upon a time, she made up a grocery list and wanted my dad to buy a Sweet Potato. However, what she wrote down was Sweat Pototoe. That quickly became a running joke at our house. THEN she sent my brother and I to the store to buy one of those long skinny crusty breads. She wanted, and I quote, a "B-a-9-*" (at least, as near as we could decipher). We ended up having to call her and ask if she wanted a baguette or a bagel. We were practically rolling on the floor with glee at this point.
To this day, Bear and I will ask eachother if we want some B-A-nine-asterisk with dinner, or leave it written down on scraps of paper somewhere in the house.
I wished I had a sharpie. And a camera.
"Only contains ingredients most people can spell." But not you, mom.