Appropriate, I guess

In our household, Josh is the designated mail-getter.  There's no real strategy or reason behind this - it's mostly a product of having only one key for the mailbox between the two of us.  It is a little bit of a nonsensical dynamic because I get much more mail than he does, courtesy of my unabiding, excessive love for magazine subscriptions.

So it's not an unfamiliar experience to stand next to him as he opens the mailbox and sifts through the mail, saying "yours...yours...yours...yours..."  He has also taken to designating all junk mail as mine.  But a few nights back, he tossed a postcard my way.  It was some awful hybrid of random junk mail and a freakishly, creepily personal salutation:

"That is me!" I said. "I am Pizza Lover!"

"I know," he said. "That's why I gave it to you."

P.S. Take in this gross but true tidbit: If you couldn't tell from the postcard messaging, we love Domino's now.  The commercials are spot on: The pizza is totally better.  I try to picture telling my college self that and find it inconceivable.  (I am half-scared they are going to try to find me to be in a commercial now.) 

P.P.S. This seems like an appropriate low-brow place to mention that I recently went to my local liquor store to purchase a bottle of wine and bought a $5 bottle of Ed Hardy pinot grigio on a dare--the same Ed Hardy as the purveyor of those scary tattooish t-shirts some men wear as "dress-up t-shirts" for a night on the town.  I should also confess that said "dare" involved me texting my friend Sara and inquiring if she dared me to buy said bottle.  She readily agreed.  And no, it wasn't good.