IT STARTED HARMLESSLY ENOUGH. I was driving, my phone buzzed, and Kevin reached for it.

“It’s Ash. She says she’s going to the cheese factory in Logan and wants to know if you want anything.”

“No I’m good. Grams might want some cheese curd but I just bought her some. Text her and tell her no but thanks for the offer.”

“I’m going to text her to get some Fumunda cheese.”

READER.

Do you know what Fumunda cheese is?

This is your warning to leave if either:

1) You don’t know what Fumunda cheese is and you don’t care to find out

or

2) You know what Fumunda cheese is and you are easily offended at the mention of it.

Okay. I’ll explain.

Fumunda cheese is, well. . .it’s a slang term from a joke that goes like this, “Would you like some Fumunda cheese?” and the person says, “Fumunda what?” and you reply, “Fumunda the crack of my butt!”

(Or I guess if you want a more graphic description of Fumunda cheese you could always look it up on Urban Dictionary. It’s funny, and just kind of wrong. But so funny.)

I’m no stranger to these types of jokes. Heck, I grew up with my other sister that made inapropriate phone calls to KFC.

So when Kevin texted Ashley that from my phone, I didn’t think she’d fall for it.

Turns out, she did.

“How do you pronounce it?” She texted back.

“Fun-unda. Just with an M. You might have to ask for it,” Kevin replied. At this point we couldn’t stop laughing and Kevin wouldn’t give me my phone back.

“LOL Okay.” was the response he got back.

I started reaching for my phone to text Ashley hints or to explain. “You can’t tell her! You’ll ruin it. Just see if she does it. She hit my car (hush hush, she just bumped it with her license plate, everything’s fine). She owes me one.” Kevin was pretty insistent, and hey, FINE I’ll admit I thought it would be pretty funny. I was trying to picture it. How would she say it? “Do you have any Fumunda cheese?” or “Where is your Fumunda?” or “I’m trying to find Fumunda cheese but I don’t see it anywhere.”

I waited three hours before I got a text from Ashley. “Do the words chocolate pocket mean anything to you?” Upon asking Kevin, we determined she was calling me a butthole.

Rude.

I sent her, “So I’m assuming they don’t have my cheese?” and she replied, “Haven’t even gotten there yet. Jake put a handful of chocolate in his pocket and it melted. He thinks it’s funny. Chocolate pocket.”

We were still in the clear, and I had to wait an hour more before I get this gem.

“Um if you set me up I will kick your this word has been removed by author. Niel says it means crotch and the workers had no idea what I was asking!”

I immediately called Ashley and had the funniest conversation in my life.

Niel was still too upset to really talk, so she wanted to know exactly what Fumunda was.

OH MY WORD YA’LL. Kevin got my sister to innocently ask a cheese factory worker if they had Fumunda cheese.

“Fumunda. . .” laugh, laugh laugh, “the crack”, snicker, “of yo’ . . .” and that’s all I managed before I collapsed on the floor in a heap. I couldn’t breathe for the tears streaming down my face and the stitch in my side was becoming painful. I could hear Ash gasping for air on the other side of the phone, Niel streaming curses and mutters in the background.

They came over later and she relayed the whole story. Mind you, the entire time she told the story we were both in fits of laughter while Niel sat on the other couch, shooting daggers at us. “I looked around the store and couldn’t find it anywhere, so I asked the old lady up front, ‘Do you have any Fumunda cheese?’ She hadn’t heard of it and asked if I had checked the exotic cheese isle. I said I had, so she called another worker, about nineteen years old over and had me repeat the question. The girl got a blank look on her face, and said, ‘Yea I’ve heard of it and no we definitely don’t have it’. All the while Niel was pissy so we went outside, turns out he thought it meant something to do with the crotch area and he was so embarrassed that I’d asked for that! I think I’m going to pee my pants, that was so funny. The best part was I was completely innocent! I had no idea what I was asking for!!!”

Niel may never recover from being severely mortified and embarrassed by the whole thing, but I’m okay with that. Ash sent me a text when she left. “Thanks for the best laugh I’ve ever had”.

All that I can say is that I’m sure one day she’ll get even. We always do!

UPDATE: This was Ashley’s Facebook status last night.

“Gas for our road trip $45.00, amount Niel spent on cheese $83.00, innocently asking the cashier if they sold Fumunda cheese….priceless. Sorry Aubrey, I honestly thought this was a cheese when I offered to get you something and this was your joking request. This is the most embarrassing thing I have EVER done.”

ON FRIDAY, MY WORK HOSTED OUR ANNUAL CHRISTMAS PARTY AT SUNDANCE SKI RESORT. And although it was amazing, the entertainment was wonderful, the food was fulfilling, I can never think of Sundance without thinking of raccoons.

Raccoons and I go way back you see, clear back to when I was eight and my sisters friend had a pet coon which ran in a bush, causing a bit of a dilemma for us.

“Quick, give me your shoes!” Sam’s friend Kristy shoved her hand in my direction, but there was no way I was giving up my shoes, they were brand spanking new and I hadn’t even found out how fast I could run in them yet.

Did anyone else do that? Run up and down the street in your new kicks just to see if you were faster? Back to the point.

“I don’t wanna…” I quietly shied away from her.

“Well fine, but then you have to go in there and grab him.” Now it was a challenge, but I was totally game. After all, it’s just a pet coon. I stepped towards the bush and poked around with my hands until I felt a sharp — SNIP — and pain overcame my thumb. I pulled my gangly hand out of the bush and noticed four puncture marks where the damn thing had bit me. I ran screaming all the way home and sat there crying for an hour while my mom called around to find out if it had rabies.

Good times, I tell you. Good times.

Ever since then I’ve stayed away from the evil little varmints with one exception: the day my sisters, mom and I went to Sundance to explore the gift shop, and right outside was the funniest, pudgiest little raccoon I’ve ever seen in my life swinging on a rope and failing miserably. He had a broken leg but the sweetest disposition. Shopping isn’t my thing so I stood there watching him for a while, which was fine until he changed his focus and started coming at me. Every step I took back he took two scooches (broken leg, remember?) towards me. If I moved faster, so did he. I was wondering what I should do, could I outrun a raccoon!? right when some hag that worked in the store screamed, “Young lady! Get AWAY from that RACOON right this instant,” with her hand on her hip.

You’d think she worked for peta and I’d just been caught dog fighting.

And I don’t know what it is, usually I just submit when people yell — like the time in Zions National Park when some lady yelled at Ashley and I for feeding the squirrels, something about how they’d all starve and die in the winter and it would be all our fault since we fed them, Ashley and I just stood there and TOOK IT. But no, not today, I was not going be blamed for a silly little coon that was chasing me. So I mocked, threw out my leg and folded my arms and very sassily replied, “Who are you?! You’re not my mother.”

And since I can’t find the perfect photo I took of a raccoon at the Oklahoma Zoo that talked me out of 1/2 a bag of Gardettos, I’ll leave you with a photo of a man at Wal-Mart that brought his buddy with him.

THE AUBREYMO.COM BLOG TURNS ONE TODAY!!! This means a select few of you on the internet have stuck around for 365 days of whining, rants, blabs and roughly 3,562 pet photos. A select few of you have even read all 152 posts.

You deserve a medal.

But instead I’ll give you this, a “best of” list for AubreyMo. Let’s start right out at the very start:

1) The Beginning

How I Wrangled The Christmas Spirit – The awesome first blog post, where I talked about how a Christmas tree fell off my car. Let’s just say this year I’m glad I went with a fake tree. Isn’t it enough that the lights already shocked me?

2) The Top Rated

Finding the Truth – We’ll talk about this one later.

How to Write an Apology Letter… – This is a post my dear friend Kamie wrote on my blog a while back. I need to post on her site as well…if I can ever think of something awesome to write.

Winds of Change – Um. Me. Running in a field like a freak with my dog. No different than any other day I guess.

3) Posts where I mention creeps, and I’m not talking about me.

Finding the Truth – By far the most popular one, this is where some punk kid ran up and asked if I knew where to find the truth. It also includes the Pants of Awesomeness. I guess I can finally post a photo of them now.

You Wanna Go? – This thug is serious about his money. Don’t mess.

Mid-Hall Melodies – The time at college a guy with a guitar chased me down the hall and sang me a song about getting stoned. You know those memories you’ll never forget? I’m sure some day I’ll be 80 and reminiscing on this one.

4) Embarrassing posts (in which I may or may not include the word ‘Twilight’)

Vanity Vain – My hair starts out bad and I document making it worse. Yes, there were Cruella De Vil references.

Twilight, You Are My Life Now – Twilight…

Becoming Bella – I look like Bella, and apparently I pissed off someone who doesn’t. I could delete the comments but knowing that I hurt their immature feelings makes me laugh. NO, YOU GROW UP COMMENTER.

As I said before, I know exactly who they are.

New Moon Official Trailer – This concludes the Twilight obsession. Remind me to tell you about the time Kevin went to see New Moon with us. It was a hoot.

Ms. Chipmunk Cheeks – Remember this photo?

It’s right after I got out of oral surgery and was fat faced for a week. It has to be the most embarrassing photo I’ve ever posted of me, other than this:

or this:

But the photo with the most views isn’t even of me, so we’re good.

This concludes the flashback of my life. Let’s just forget the whole thing happened, shall we?

THE LOOK ON GRAMS’ FACE WHEN I WALKED IN was hilarious all on its own. Her hand, which was in the process of putting an ice cube to her mouth, hung forgotten and her mouth gaped as she stared at my jeans. Being born in 1929 and growing up through the tail-end of the depression, I’m sure she’s seen ratty jeans before, but she wasn’t quite sure why someone would wear them by choice.

“My heavens child, you need new pants! Surely you can afford some. Those things have got to go,” she admonished me before we’d even said hello.

And I’ll confess, I may have lied a little. I told a half-truth.

“They’re just comfortable Grandma, that’s why I keep them”.

These pants?

Yea. They’re brand new.

**UPDATE: My spreadsheet is found, I now have food  and life is good again**

IT’S MONDAY, AND I’M ALREADY HUNGRY. Is it not enough that it’s Monday? I mean, that’s a huge thing all in itself. Matter of fact, that works as answer to anything:

Aubrey what’s wrong?

It’s Monday.

How’s that spreadsheet coming (oh yea, the one that’s still LOST?!)

It’s Monday.

How’s your Grandma?

It’s Monday.

What’re you thinking?

It’s Monday.

Except this time, It’s Monday and I’m Hungry. I’m hungry and I’m on a quest – for Funions. Kevin and I were driving around the other day and for some insane reason I felt the need to blurt out of nowhere, “Whenever I find Funions, I feel like I’ve won something massive.” I clenched my fists together for added emphasis.

“. . .O. . .kay?” He asked, looking at me out the corner of his eye.

“Well, you just can’t find those anywhere, it’s like a prize. A prize of yummy goodness.”

“Eww.  Funions are sooo gross!” He proclaimed.

“WHAT?! You don’t like Funions?! You don’t like Funions.” I huffed. “You mean to tell me we’re similar in every other way but you can’t stand Funions? Well, then guess what? I hate the vinegar in Salt and Vinegar chips.” Oh yes, I went there. I hated on his favorite chips.

“Well then, I hate the onions in Funions.”

We both bust up laughing and that was the end of that discussion – he won. We agreed to disagree (and what a great first disagreement that was), and get our favorite type of chips anyway – except Chevron was lame and didn’t have either.

However, he made it up to me later when he found my stash of Easy Cheese and Wheat Thins. “Oh my goodness I love these! You’re probably mad that I found them.” Mad, no. Surprised that you like them? Yes.

I got thinking of how much my father hates Easy Cheese. He calls it “Fish Cheese” because he claims it’s so similar to the cheese bait he used while fishing as a kid. He won’t even come close to a can of Easy Cheese if you paid him.  Thinking of that got me thinking of butter. Both are so similar with how they can be processed and sold in so many different forms.

And now butter’s got me thinking about toast, and pancakes, and all the other stuff I’d like to make in the morning when I get up.

But wait.

It’s Monday.

Raincheck to Tuesday? Why yes please.