Funky Socks

Well, my friend Ro tagged me for this Funky Sock Exchange. Heard of it? It's the little pyramid thing where you send socks. Other variations include recipes, earrings, um...you get it. Actually, she had tagged me *and* my mom, but mom declined to participate on the basis that she doesn't have six friends. Seriously. She could not think of six people she knew who would participate. I know this, because she was brainstorming with me and she kept coming up with....me. And Ro. No matter how many times I explained that she couldn't tag Ro, because Ro had tagged her. And she couldn't tag me, because I was having enough of a time thinking of six people who might do this, and if Mom tagged me I would have to think of six MORE, and, well, I don't have *that* many friends. Really. I kinda maxed out at the six.

I had been tagged with this before by another friend, but I dropped the ball. Yup. I killed it. My bad. But I have a chance to redeem myself, and so I have picked my people, made out the letters and the blank letters, put everything in the mail and now I just have to get the freakin' pair of socks to mail to the person I don't know. And that is on my list for tomorrow.

I added a little twist to my forwards. See, I think this is really fun and all, but I understand how some people are reluctant to hit up six of their friends, etc. (seeing as I'm reluctant to hit up my friends for stuff too often.) So I wrote a little p.s. at the bottom of the page, kind of an escape clause. Which is that if they don't want to send the letter on, just send the socks to Ro and they're done. That will alleviate any guilt the letter recipient may have about just KILLING the exchange (you know, like I did with my other friend). I am giving them full permission not to allow me the thrill of receiving 36 pairs of funky socks. (Has anybody ever actually received the full allotment of stuff from one of these? I think my previous max is like, two recipes.) It's not that I wouldn't LIKE to get a bunch of funky socks. I looooooooove socks. And anyone who reads this is free to send me some cool socks if you like. Or recipes. Or earrings. Or heck, anything your little heart desires as long as it's not toxic or illegal. Anyway, my point being that if *someone* has to suffer from the dropped-ball thing, I would prefer it not be Ro. I will sacrifice myself. Because I am cool like that. Yeah, that's it. mk