I Am a Whore For Pyrex

No, seriously. This is another reason I love weddings. Not only for the nice stuff about commitment and love, etc. That I like. Not only for the fact that it gives everybody an excuse to get dressed up and look good. That I also like. Not only for the potential for people to get tore up and subsequently make with the comedy. That of course I like. But mostly because it gives me the ability to give people some sturdy-ass cookware.

Seriously. When people don't put it on their registry, I go out and hunt it down and send it to them, unbidden. Unbidden, of course, except for the voices in my head.

Clearly, this indicates that there's something wrong with me, but I really get charged up over this stuff, and I'm sure it makes me look uncharacteristically dull when people open a gift box from me and get measuring bowls but by God, this is necessary! And you'll thank me in 15 years when your pubescent kid knocks it off the counter with his/her gangly arms and poor depth perception and it just lands. Like a cat. A cat that you can measure out Bisquick in. And you have to get all the sizes. Because while a pint measuring cup is delightful for figuring out if you have enough milk for your bananna bread, or what-have-you, what if you have to make waffles for 15? What THEN, HOTSHOT?

Oh, yes, I've done my civic duty.