Tuesday, November 10, 2009


Up until maybe a month ago I had never had a Yoo-hoo in my life. I don't know why, because I see people drink them all the time. Somehow I had it in my head that they were gross, even though I had never tasted one.

Mark gets them all the time. Basically whenever we stop at a gas station on trips or something. So one time I tried it. Pretty tasty! But then I sort of forgot about them. I think it's the packaging that throws me off. This just doesn't look like it would be tasty:

That is until I came home from vegas and found twelve of them in my fridge. Mark explained that he went to Sam's Club (true manly grocery shopping you know) and bought a whole case. "That's ridiculous," I told him. "There is absolutely no reason why two people need 24 Yoo-hoo's."

(Please note: Half of them were already gone. In less than four days. Twelve Yoohoo's in four days! This man is crazy.)

That was Saturday night. It is Tuesday morning and guess how many Yoohoo's we have left? Not many. Like less than two and more than zero. And who drank most of them?

This girl.

Don't tell Rambo that I'm in love with the Yoohoo's, alright? Because that would be admitting defeat because I'm actually grateful for his economy-sized Yoohoo purchase. We are getting married in a year. I'm trying to maintain alpha-dog status here folks.

Oh, and don't tell him I drank the last one. Okay?

Live & Love!


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