Subliminal, Who?

(Tootsie on the right and her friend who we'll call Dorkanna because that's what we call her to her face and in her Christmas cards. It's okay, don't worry, she likes it)

Mr. Farklepants and I started dating in 1994. Happy Birthday to me That year was going to be our first Thanksgiving together, the first year we'd celebrate Christmas together, and our birthdays...we would be celebrating a lot of firsts that year and I'll just leave you with that image. You're welcome.

Any-old-who...the company we worked for was kind of known for their holiday parties. Happy Birthday to meeee They were the stuff of legend. They were something you planned for months in advance. They were black tie. They were the kind of parties that had our clients throwing down clamoring for a coveted super secret invitation; so much so, that come October it was the clients that were kissing our ass and not visa versa. They were the cause of large groups of us being banned from several hotels in the greater Los Angeles area. And probably the cause of the company eventually going out of business. Too much money spent on elaborate parties. But I digress much. Happy Birthday dear, Tootsie Party on Wayne. Party on Garth.

Back to the picture. More specifically the dress. And if you're still laughing at the ivory colored pantyhose we're both wearing I just want to remind you that it was 1994 and still considered a fashion staple at black tie functions. But I understand and I will give you a minute to gather yourself. I'll wait. Ahem. The dress. In October of that year I was reading Vogue and came across an ad for I don't remember jewelry or something and the model was wearing that exact dress. I told my girlfriends and probably Mr. Farklepants that THAT was the dress I wanted for that year's holiday function. Of course, it wasn't an ad for the dress and I had no idea who the designer was or where it could be found; nor did I think that I'd have the salary to afford it even if I did make some magic happen. Eventually the dress was forgotten. Well, not really forgotten but put in its special place. A place called: unattainability.

When my birthday rolled around, Mr. Farklepants gave me a box. And in that box was that dress. Apparently he had torn the ad clean out of my magazine, squirreled it away to some secret hidey-hole and was all, "I will find this dress...oh yes...I will find it". And find it he did. He was on a mission from the fashion god - the make my new girlfriend happy god [totally one of my favorite gods which is quickly replaced by the less popular but more familiar: when is your birthday again? god, reserved for wives].

It still hangs in my closet today. It is one of my most memorable presents. Sometimes it really is the thought that counts. And when I say thought I mean: think about it and actually follow through with it. Happy Birthday tooooo meeeeeee

What's the most memorable gift that you received? You'll note that I didn't say today is my birthday it had to be a good one.

Okay. Who's still laughing at my pantyhose? Or is it my Rachel hair?