blast off

so, i think i've mentioned before that kathleen and i were weird kids.

today, in my interior design class, my professor told a story that reminded me of another quirk we had.

here's the story he told:

when bloody marry was growing up, she got very sick.

she was a princess, so she was treated so.

a king of another country--france, germany, flanders, i'm not sure which--sent her oranges.

oranges were a delicacy, very rare.

her cook didn't know what to do with them, so he made something special: marmalade.

mar=marry

malade=sick.

while he was telling this story, i was thinking about something else.

me.

and kathleen.

here's our story:

i don't know why, but when we were little, we didn't like marmalade.

we thought it was gross.

i love it now.

my mom, however, liked it.

so, she made us eat it.

kathleen and i would hold our toast with marmalade, and chant the following:

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

BLAST OFF MARMALADE!!!!!

pthgja;ldkfadghadlkfjeo

(we would spit. we hated it that much.)

then we would pretend our toast was a rocket and blast it off.

neither of us know where this came from.

it just happened.

photo courtesy of