Do you remember those commercials with the little orange fuzzy guy trying to get someone's attention while the narrator talked about fighting hunger?
This commercial made me shout the first time I saw it. "Ah, ha!" I cried, "That's what he looks like!"
My husband, used to strange outbursts from the strange woman he married, merely glanced over and waited while I pointed excitedly at the screen.
"That's HIM!" I continued, "That's the Goody Monster."
The Goody Monster? Yes, and actually, the not-strange-at-all man I married coined the term. The Goody Monster is my husband's monster. I was shocked the first couple time he started going through the cupboards and the fridge at 9:00 to 10:00 at night. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, looking for a goody.."
"A goody?"
"The Goody Monster's hungry."
If I could raise one eyebrow, I would have, and I would have done it surreptitiously. Instead I settled for, "Oh?"
"A goody sounds good."
The bad part is the goody monster is like a stray cat. You feed it and it just comes back. It even grows bigger and more demanding at times. The Goody Monster had even demanded that my husband drive to Russ' restaurant after 9:00p.m. for a piece of strawberry cheese pie.
If Ryan walks into the bedroom holding a plate of cookies with his glass of milk (visual sleep aid), and I surreptitiously raise my eyebrow (at least in my imagination) and say, "Oh?" He just shrugs and says, "Goody Monster was hungry."
After 17 years of marriage, the goody monster is just part of our lives. You can imagine my shock when I saw him in ACTUAL PHYSICAL form on television. Now I have a fuzzy orange mental image to accompany the words, "Goody Monster."
