MFM Minisode 441

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Hello,

and welcome to my favorite murder, The Minus O.

Here it is.

Look at this.

Look at this.

Look at it now.

You can't.

There's no video on this.

Beast your eyes.

You're not.

Don't touch it with your eyes.

Beast your eyes.

I ears.

We want to go first?

No, you have it.

Okay.

You've got it newscaster style right in your hand.

You're excited.

Because this is a spooky hometown ghost story.

Okay.

High diddly hoe murderinos.

It starts.

Is that the first time that's happened?

I think so.

Wow.

Aside from when Ned Flanders did it originally.

That's classic.

In 1979, it just gets into it.

My family moved to the coastal mountains of Oregon into a fairly new single-wide trailer on a wooded piece of property with a creek running through it at nearly the end of a nine-mile dirt road.

Nine miles is too long.

I know.

As someone from the country.

Driving 10 minutes just to get to your front door from the street.

What kind of weed are you growing back there?

They lived in that single wide while my dad built the house I would eventually grow up in.

I never lived in the trailer, but all my siblings did.

I'm the youngest of four.

My two sisters shared a room, and then my two-year-old brother slept on a little bed on the floor in my parents' room.

For several nights, my brother would wake up complaining that someone was walking on him.

Finally, my dad grew tired of this ridiculous complaint and took a turn sleeping on the floor to prove my brother was just being an irrational toddler.

Uh-oh.

The next morning, he said he had a terrible night's sleep because someone had been stepping on him.

The dad?

Yeah.

And they're nine miles away just from the road to get to town.

Run and get help.

It's going to be two hours.

Yeah.

If you're a nine-year-old and you need to run and get help.

Yeah.

See if you better put your Adidas on.

Right.

You're screwed.

Not, but a few nights later.

Oh, I love the way that that's right.

Not, but a few nights later, my mom awoke suddenly and there standing in front of her was a little boy, about eight years old, holding a medium-sized red rubber ball and staring at her.

What?

Haunted trailer.

I mean, that's scary.

What?

Yeah.

Just say it's a neighbor boy, please.

It's not.

My mom does not get spooked easily, so she just calmly stared at him and he simply stared back.

When she blinked, he was gone.

It's a fucking ghost story.

Yo, ye.

Raws, get the Raws hotline.

We have a ghosted story for you.

My whole family somehow shrugged this off.

I feel like when you're living there and you can't do anything about it, you just have to explain it away in your head so you can just get through the day and night.

Yes, right.

I love to also talk to that mom about what her childhood was like, that she's like, I think I'm just going to go ahead and stare this ghost down.

Have you ever heard that as an option of somebody that's like, I think there's a ghost at the end of my bed?

That means the living people were scarier than the idea of a ghost.

That's right.

Badass mom times 25.

Right.

So then a few months later, the previous owners arrived at their door, 80s drop-by style.

Like, that is so real.

That is so real.

Do you know what happened last night?

No.

I'm laying down after we record after I had food poisoning with very tie-tie and about to go to sleep and someone knocked on my door.

Why?

Right.

So I, of course, freeze.

The dogs go insane and no one's there.

And so then I have to wait.

And I'm like, what am I going to do?

And finally, I go look out the peephole.

No one's there.

I open it.

Ice cream.

Is that ice cream?

It's secret ice cream delivery.

You forgot you ordered ice cream.

I've stopped doing that.

Okay.

That I had to curb because it costs so much money.

No, I had been out of town, so I forgot to tell my house sitter to take stuff out of the mailbox.

So it was mail with a a little post-it note that said, please clean out your mailbox.

The mailman had to door deliver the mail because the mailbox was absolutely full.

I hate when they ring your doorbell, though.

Like when you get a package delivered, it's like, I know.

Yeah, just throw it there.

I see it.

Okay.

I'll be out there.

But also, there's something about the late.

It's like an 80s knock.

But it was a thing where you'd be like, hey, I grew up here.

Can I come in and see the house?

Yes, totally.

That's now a ploy.

Don't ever believe it.

Of course not.

But it totally used to be a thing.

Completely.

It was okay.

Or also just like friends and acquaintances being like, hey, I i was in the neighborhood what's up right so the old people the previous owners arrive at the door 80s drop-by style to see how they were getting along in their new house completely unprompted they asked if any of them had seen the ghost of the little boy oh it was then that my mom was finally shook The story goes, there was a town at the turn of the century up Langlois Mountain called Oaky Town, which was a lumber milling town.

So spooky already.

The old incinerator is just up the road from my parents' house.

There lived a boy named Raymond West who was playing with his ball when it rolled into the creek.

He went after it and drowned.

Horrible.

To be clear, in the summer, this creek is safe as could be and rarely more than calf deep, but in the winter and spring it will easily sweep you away.

My parents were able to find old news articles of the story in the library and it all checked out.

So he ran after the ball that they later saw him with.

And now he's like...

Hey,

you guys.

Finally, when we were all living in the house my dad built, my sister was poking around at random books on our massive bookshelf when she found a small, old, tattered book she didn't recognize.

It was an old elementary school primer, Dick and Jane style, and when she opened it, the name Raymond West was written in cursive several times throughout.

Oh my god.

Thanks for trudging through that lengthy read.

The local paper eventually did a story about it, and it's been a tale we tell in my family since I can remember.

The trailer is still there, and it's still scary as hell to be alone in.

Hell no.

Nine miles up up the road.

Love you ladies and your whole crew.

Stay sexy and don't play near the creek in winter.

Mirabelle.

Wow.

What a story.

Ghost story for summer.

Summer ghost story.

Yeah, summer ghost story.

Can you guys send us more summer ghost stories?

Yeah, you do not have to wait for fall.

Here's a summer not ghost story.

Okay.

And it's timely to our main episode from Thursday.

And the subject line is hot dog day gone wrong at the health department.

And then it says three-minute read.

And it just starts, oh, hey, I've been listening to you since 2017, and I love you both.

I work for a Department of Public Health in a large metro area.

Our department is a shit show, and we've made local news multiple times in the past year, ranging from a nepotism scandal and false timekeeping to toxic mismanagement.

Ouch.

The situation below is just one of the many somewhat unbelievable things that have happened here.

And now, the rest of this is totally unbelievable.

Not to accuse anybody of lying at all, but it is, as I was reading it, I was like, you've got to be fucking kidding me.

Okay.

So it was hot dog day.

And then in parentheses, it says, why our health department had a hot dog day is beyond me.

That's the opposite of health.

It just, it starts insane.

Yeah.

Not many people were grabbing hot dogs.

So one of my coworkers, feeling bad for the people who organized the event, got a vegetarian hot dog.

She came to regret that decision because by that evening, she had developed food poisoning.

Oh, no.

Back in our office, a new employee had just started and was setting up her cubicle.

I guess our division director at the time thought he would show off by tossing a bottle of barbecue sauce in the air.

Well, he hadn't noticed that the cap on the bottle was loose, so it flew off and barbecue sauce went everywhere.

Oh,

God.

A lot of it landed on the new employee's desk, getting on her new laptop and ruining some of her paperwork.

A big glob landed on our carpeted office floor.

Around the corner came my coworker who doesn't like to wear shoes.

Ew, no,

that's a policy in an office.

You must wear shoes.

At the health department.

At the health department.

It's absolutely required at the health department.

As a non-naked foot person, I am, this is the worst.

This is my worst nightmare, Rebecca.

At work.

Sure enough, she slipped in the barbecue sauce with her bare feet.

And then that noise you made is the emoji where it looks like

kind of bar feet.

And then it says, let me remind you that the food poisoning, barbecue sauce, and barefoot incidents all took place at a health department.

Honestly, kind of embarrassing and kind of the thing that should only happen on TV.

But in all seriousness, most of the people I work with are smart, hardworking people who are passionate about improving health outcomes in our community.

The attacks on public health at the federal level are scary and disheartening.

Some ways to support your local health department are interacting positively with their social media accounts and reporting misinformation in comment sections, talking with your friends and family about current health issues, and utilizing their services and wearing fucking shoes.

How about that?

Number one.

Let's put that at the top of the list.

Shoes required.

We're back in the email.

A lot of health departments provide immunizations, safer sex supplies, Narcan, primary and dental care, and more.

All of which are available to the public.

I didn't know any of that.

That's incredible.

Yeah.

And then it says, anyway, stay sexy and don't trust Hot Dog Day.

Hot dog day.

And then this is unsigned.

And our producer Molly says, this is unsigned.

I'm assuming because it doesn't make the company look great.

Right.

It sounds like an episode of Parks on Rec, though, can we be honest?

Completely.

You can cast that so quickly.

Can I just tell you very quickly that along the lines of the guy with the barbecue sauce, when I used to work on the daily talk show that I used to work on, my friend Vicki, who was a producer, she and I would meet before work and walk around my neighborhood for an hour to like get some exercise in together.

We'd both get ready at my house and we'd go to work, which was like three minutes from my house.

And one morning we did that and we were in my car ready to go to work and I had one of my drinkable yogurts that I love.

And we were talking and I started shaking it up, but the cap was off.

So I literally in the Honda Fit just shook a drinkable yogurt all over us and we both just.

At least it was both of you.

It was like it just went everywhere in the car.

Oh my God.

Cause you know when you're like going to shake something that's kind of thick, you're like, oh, I have to kind of like shake it.

You don't hold back.

Oh my god.

It was like I was doing like a champagne spray in the car with drinkable yogurt.

And then first thing in the morning, right?

First thing in the morning.

And we just both like look at each other, dripping in yogurt, and just get back out of the car, go back inside.

We have to get ready all over again.

Smells so, oh my god.

Insane.

That's amazing.

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This is called How My Parents Helped Give Me Anxiety.

We all have one.

Let's all read our emails.

Dear Karen, Georgia and the exactly right family.

I started listening to MFM at episode 16, Blood, Murder, 16 Magic.

Okay.

And while that episode freaked me out because you talked about Chandra Levy and I was a new graduate living alone in DC, I knew I had stumbled across something special.

I have relied on hearing your voices to get me through a lot, from simply looking for a laugh or needing a savior from boredom at my desk job to calming my ever-present anxiety.

I have listened to the entire catalog four times and it will soon be five with the rewind episodes.

Girl.

Wow.

Thank you for the numbers.

I mean, you are putting in serious numbers for us.

Thank you for my home.

You're the street team.

Thank you for the house I live in.

Then it says thank you for more than I can express.

So yeah, great.

Back at you.

Speaking of that ever-present anxiety, I have a story about 90s parents that may indicate why I am now heavily medicated.

Ditto.

I don't want to call them trash parents because they are still my best friends.

But when I heard a recent mini-sode, I finally decided to send this in.

Cannot wait for a trash parent.

Also, parents plural.

Like, it's not just a trash dad.

Yeah.

There's nobody looking out for you.

For context, my name is Katie and my sister's name is Jenny.

This is important for the story.

When I was a child, my dad chose to get us to behave in an interesting way.

The house I grew up in backed into a wooded area.

When we would misbehave or complain, my dad would say, shh, do you hear that?

That's Sadie.

She's your sister.

But she misbehaved and now she lives in the woods.

No, my God.

You cannot threaten your child with the fake fate.

of another child

who's banished

obviously a terrifying thing to say to your small child.

I wasn't sure if I believed it, but why risk it, right?

At a young age, I knew I wanted to stay out of the forest.

When my little sister got a little older, he would say the same thing.

Shh, do you hear that?

That's Penny.

She's your sister, but she misbehaved and now she lives in the woods.

Luckily, little sisters usually have the ability to do what older sisters can't, which is push back on authority figures.

That's right.

She simply told him it wasn't true, and it became a long-lasting family joke.

Over the years, if I got frustrated with my parents, I would joke that I was going to join Sadie in the woods.

Or if we heard a weird noise, we'd say, oh, that's Sadie, or, oh, that's Penny.

Years later, I had to write a scary story for one of my French college classes.

And I based mine on this sweet, quote, childhood memory.

Yes.

That's actually, that'd be a great story.

It's great.

It's kind of pet cemetery.

Yeah.

Yeah.

But with sisters.

Let's just say the professor looked very concerned when she returned my paper.

Needless to say, you got to base it in reality, base fiction reality, and it's believable.

Write what you know.

Needless to say, in my adult years, I have had lots of therapy and I am happily medicated.

Stay sexy and maybe find a different way to get kids to behave without giving them trauma.

Katie.

P.S.

I made my mom a Merdarino.

Sorry for spilling the beans, mom.

Love you.

What if her mom's name was Sadie?

Oh, yeah.

Sent your mom to the woods.

Oh, my God.

That's so good.

I have already told the story of Adrienne saying to her kids, be careful, the man is watching.

Which is like, if you have more than one child.

That sounds like religion, though, honestly.

It is basically literally is it's Catholicism in a nutshell.

But also like when you're in public and then you there's three individuals who haven't been here for very long,

you gotta get them to like snap to totally for their own safety and everybody else's like sanity.

You've got to threaten those kids.

You got to make them insane.

All right.

This email subject line is, listen to that little voice.

It says, hi, Karen in Georgia.

Thanks for keeping me entertained on all my long runs.

I'm one of those crazy people who runs marathons for fun.

Honey.

How?

And then it just says, but let's get into my story.

A few years ago, I went to a co-worker's wedding in Columbia, South Carolina.

After the ceremony, the plan was to hit the college bars, since it's a big college town, but first we were supposed to meet the bridal party at the bar in their hotel.

My group was staying at a more budget-friendly spot, so we grabbed an Uber over.

When we got there, we couldn't get in touch with anyone from the bridal party, and the front desk informed us that the hotel bar was closed.

So we decided to head out on our own and explore the local college bars.

Would you go to a college bar now?

Definitely.

Absolutely.

Yes.

Good times.

Maybe.

Yeah, I would.

Yeah.

Maybe I'm thinking of a dive bar, though.

Like a sports bar that's really loud and sticky.

Yeah.

It actually doesn't sound great.

Actually, you know, yeah, you know why?

Because they always have quiz night.

Every night is quiz night.

And you walk in and it's so loud.

Yes.

Okay.

The answer is no.

It's a no?

Yeah.

There was a bar, boys I went to high school school with went to Columbia.

This was like in the late 80s, and there was a dive bar that they used to go to that beers were 25 cents until the first person peed.

I've told you the story.

No.

Yes.

Oh, that would be so hard for me.

So if you were the person that ruined it, like everyone in the whole bar hated you, but then people got so drunk.

They were like, people like beyond shit face.

You know, someone had a diaper on for sure.

Right?

Right?

Somebody's going to go to New Year's in Times Square.

Oh, my God.

Okay.

Okay.

We ended up in a place packed with 21-year-old babies when we noticed two people, a man and a woman who looked closer to our age, standing at the back bar.

Naturally, we started chatting.

They told us they were siblings.

She worked at the college and he was visiting from the military.

They suggested we drink at his hotel bar, which sounded sketchy, but we were trying to be polite.

No.

Don't be polite.

Don't.

While we were still chatting, I happened to spot a guy wearing a brewery t-shirt from my hometown in Maryland.

I got excited and started talking to him.

That's when things got weird.

The woman suddenly stormed up to me, got inches from my face, and started yelling at me for, quote, ignoring her brother.

What?

I was stunned.

Even worse, the way she positioned herself between me and my drink set off alarm bells.

She got so close that I could no longer see my glass.

Something in my gut told me that this wasn't just weird, it was dangerous.

Oh my God.

I quickly grabbed my friend Lindsay, left my drink on the bar, and walked out.

But as we got to the front door, that little voice in my head spoke up.

Turn around.

I did and saw the guy was following me.

His quote-unquote sister was nowhere in sight.

Outside, I spotted a group of guys standing on the sidewalk.

I walked straight into their circle and said, I'm with you.

Pretend you know me.

Without missing a beat, they played along and the guy walked right past without saying a word.

To this day, I don't know for sure what their intentions were, but I'm convinced they tried to drug me and had something sinister planned.

Absolutely.

I mean, it's so weird.

So creepy.

Also, when you meet people and they're like, we're brother and sister, but you're like, you're not, though.

I wouldn't go to a fucking bar with my brother.

What would we do?

We wouldn't do that.

Yeah, what are you doing?

No.

The kicker, the hotel they were trying to take us to, the one with the bar, it was the same hotel that actually had no bar.

Oh, like the original bar that they planned to go to.

And then they were like, oh.

Oh my God.

I hadn't put the red flags together in the moment, but thankfully, I listened to my gut.

Yeah.

And then it just says, Danielle.

That's incredible.

I also do love and think everyone should utilize, no matter what, the pretend I'm with you.

Yes.

Two groups of people if you're alone and you're scared.

Like they will follow through with it.

Don't worry about being weird or embarrassing.

Like

get people gathered around you to help you.

Yes.

And like more than one so that people have a chance.

Also, it's like whether a man or a woman, someone maybe a little larger in stature.

Yeah.

Or like if you're two people who are alone, get together.

Yeah, I just, I'm a really big, I'm a really big advocate of that.

And I think that people these days, especially because of social media, are just getting hipper and hipper.

So like if somebody came up to you and said that, you would be all over it.

Absolutely.

Yeah.

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Goodbye.

Goodbye.

All right, here's my last one.

And it's kind of how I want my life to be one day.

Okay.

Beach combing treasure.

Hi, ladies, first-time writer here.

My sister told me about your podcast back in 2016, and I started a few episodes in and have been along for the ride ever since.

Wow.

Georgia was talking about mudlarking on Minniso 426 and explained how our brains can pick out unnatural man-made shapes in a beach slash rocky setting.

That made me think of my favorite beach combing find and I had to write in.

Ooh, I'm so excited.

Whatever this is, I'm going to love it.

It's Victorian.

Is it really?

We have been spending summers in Prince Edward Island since buying our little seaside cottage in Graham Head, PEI in 2020.

Okay, let me have that fucking life, please.

Give it over.

I need that.

And then I go beach combing every day.

Yeah, exactly.

Our three kids have loved every second spent by the water and playing on the beach.

One of our favorite things to do is hunt for seaglass and random little treasures, and she wrote treasures that wash up.

We have collected dozens of mason jars of seaglass and other strange finds, buttons, Lego pieces, marbles, cow teeth, seal bones,

et cetera.

Hold on.

She went off a cliff there.

Cow teeth are horrifying.

On a beach.

Unless I'm just thinking of horse teeth.

Yeah, horse teeth are terrifying.

I mean, either way.

Why would cow teeth be on the beach?

What are they doing to those cows?

They jumped overboard on the and then they there's

you know that bridge in England where dogs jump off?

Oh, I don't want to talk about that.

Very sad.

But what if there's like on Prince Edward Island, there's like,

don't go over there.

That's where the cows jump.

Oh, geez.

Cow jumping.

Sorry, wait.

And seal bones?

Yeah.

Dark.

Over the years, and this past summer, I found the coolest thing.

A big dead seal carcass.

It was a whole cow.

cow.

I did.

It was so cool.

It was a cow hugging a seal.

I knew you'd love it.

My husband and the kids were up ahead getting a head start on finding the good stuff while I dawdled behind.

You always got to be the dawdler.

You kind of best shit.

Just as we were about to head back to the cottage, I spotted a little white fleck that resembled a teeny person up ahead in the sand and rocks.

I immediately went up to it to check it out, and it was this little white ceramic lady.

I picked her up and couldn't believe what a random thing it was to find.

Almost like a little, it sounds like a porcelain doll almost, like a figurine.

Unsure of what this was, I posted her on my Instagram and a follower commented that she was a very rare find and gave me the name of what it was.

It turns out this little beauty was a rare ceramic doll made in the Victorian era, made between 1850 and 1920, according to Wikipedia, called A Frozen Charlotte.

Oh, have you heard of that?

No.

There's too much info about them to include it all in this email, but the gist is that they were made after a poem called A Corpse Going to a Ball by Seba Smith.

It was published in 1843 in the newspaper, and it was about a young girl freezing to death in New York in 1840 while on her way to a New Year's Eve ball.

She didn't listen to her mother when she told her to bundle up and she froze on the sled next to her date, Charlie.

Jesus, cautionary tale.

Please bundle up on your sled.

Or you're going to die.

The dolls were made as a reminder for children to listen to their parents and be obedient.

Oh, it's just, it goes back farther than the 90s.

So much further.

Yeah, we thought we had a bad.

They were very inexpensive to buy and were tiny enough to fit into a jewelry box, making them super popular with children at the time.

I guess some people would also bake them into cakes, kind of like morbid money cakes.

According to the internet, you could also get little caskets for them as well.

What are we talking about?

I mean, Victorians were fucking goth as shit.

They so were, but I just feel like I would have heard about this before.

I know.

I'm so jealous.

Never.

Anywho, she may be a little terrifying and quite possibly a lot haunted, but we have her displayed on a shelf at the cottage with all of our other weird and wonderful beach finds, and we love her.

Thanks for reading this.

You got me through some dark times after losing my dad in 2018.

I picked up a hobby of embroidery and now have been selling it for almost six years.

Hell yes.

Doing that and listening to you both and your humor has been such a great distraction from everything I was going through.

Can't thank you enough.

Love you ladies.

Stay sexy and check those beaches for creepy little Victorian dolls.

Meg, Peterborough, Ontario, Canada.

And she's at embroidery by Meg Elliott.

And also, she sent us a photo of the doll.

Oh, my God.

So we'll include it on the Instagram.

Yeah, we'll post that up.

And we'll tag you, Meg.

Oh, my God.

I'm so excited.

Maybe she should make an embroidery of a frozen Charlotte that we can put on our shelves behind us.

It says treasure.

Treasure.

And then, but it's like just a dead girl.

That's our order.

We place a special order.

Can we place a special order that you ship to a stat, Meg?

That's so cool.

Yeah.

What a feeling where you're like, oh, that's just another little piece of white shell.

Yeah.

And it's like, no, it's a whole fucking statue.

It's an entire email to my favorite murder.

Amazing.

Okay.

This email subject line is Johnny, get the gun.

And it just starts.

I've grown up in an Irish Catholic family where my grandma had 16 first cousins, most of whom were badass women who taught me how to fuck politeness from a young age.

I had 27 cousins.

Jesus.

So go to hell.

Just kidding.

I have like 12ish.

I've met a good percentage of your cousins, I feel like.

You have.

Yeah.

My great-grandma, Frannie, Aunt Dottie, and Aunt Jenny were sisters who decided to live together in their 70s when their husbands had either passed or left.

And then in parentheses, it says, for the better.

It says they lived in Downey, California, near a big open park.

And one night, Franny woke up to someone trying to break into the house through the window above her head.

She woke her sisters and once they realized what was going on, Dottie screamed, Johnny, get the gun, thankfully scaring off the intruders.

Hell yeah.

What the men didn't know was that none of these brilliant ladies had ever owned or shot a gun in their life.

That is so smart.

Dottie's quick thinking likely saved their lives because when they tried to call the police, they realized the phone lines had been cut.

That's so sinister.

Which is honestly always the scariest part.

What were these people planning?

Yeah.

Well, and also, I'm sorry, but to track it, and I don't know what the timing on this is, but it makes me think that's something the Night Stalker did.

Totally.

And it's in Downey.

Yep.

Okay.

You're right.

Anyway.

100%.

Okay, anyway.

The phone lines have been cut.

Once the police finally arrived after using the neighbor's phone, they said the men likely watched their house for days or weeks from the nearby park, choosing a house with three older women who might have money and planned to end their lives or worse.

Fuck, for sure.

Thank you for creating a community.

So we're just out of that story now.

That's it.

Oh my God.

These sisters outsmarted these pieces of shit.

Johnny, get the gun.

Get the gun.

Suddenly everyone's from the South for some reason.

Everyone's a cartoon fucking southerner.

And then it just says, thank you for creating a community for current and future badass women to come together.

I know Franny, Dottie, and Johnny would absolutely love this fuckword murder podcast.

Stay sexy and get yourself an imaginary gun, Amanda.

That's so good.

This one's to Franny Dottie and Johnny.

Thanks, guys.

Do you have stories like that or anything else?

Anything.

Operating phone line cut.

Have you ever been a phone line operator or like a were you a 911 operator?

Oh, tell us everything.

Good lord, you can legally.

Please tell us.

And send it to my favorite murderer at Gmail.

And stay sexy.

And don't get murdered.

Goodbye.

Elvis, do you want a cookie?

This has been an Exactly Right Production.

Our senior producers are Alejandra Keck and Molly Smith.

Our editor is Aristotle Aceveda.

This episode was mixed by Liana Squolachi.

Email your hometowns to myfavorite murder at gmail.com and follow the show on Instagram at MyFavorite Murder.

Listen to MyFavorite Murder on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

And now you can watch us on Exactly Right's YouTube page.

And while you're there, please like and subscribe.

Goodbye.

Bye-bye.

drew and sue and eminem's minis

and baking the surprise birthday cake for lou

and sue forgetting that her oven doesn't really work and drew remembering that they don't have flour

and lou getting home early from work which he never does and Drew and Sue using the rest of the tubes of Eminem's minis as party poppers instead.

I think this is one of those moments where people say it's the thought that counts.

MMs, it's more fun together.

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