When I think of lawn ornaments?
Mr. Potato Head is not the first thing that comes to mind.
And while I love a good spud with my steak as much as the next person…
I can’t say I’d want this bigger than life fellow greeting me at my door every night.
Maybe so.
But I’m old enough to remember this creepy vintage playground Potato Head.
And stand by my statement.
No thank you!
River's world..... 
I’ll take a life-sized Barbie over a Mr.Potatohead any day. …but that’s just me.
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I think that’s a different blog entirely…
🤣
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Oh, I don’t know, my ex-wife’s name really is Barbara, AND she did get the car and house.
Oh, wait… this isn’t a therapy session?
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It isn’t… but it could be.
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My daughter loves the Mr Potato Head Pals game. I’ll take him off you!
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Sadly, he’s not mine to give. Just saw it driving by…
😉
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That vintage one–OMG–nightmares!
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I know!!!!
Run, Johnny…. run.
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That last potato is so BAKED…
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And he’s coming for you…
Grab the butter!
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A playground Mr. Potato Head? Too creepy, although you knowing about it does explain a few things about you…
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The stuff of nightmares…
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No way, give me that giant 6’ foot chicken over a creepy potato any day.
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A giant chicken beats anything.
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The “real” Mr Potato Head was never a fav. I’ll take mine mashed, scalloped, fried and/or baked.
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Yes to all!
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Potatoes–Mr. or Mrs. or whatever–are made to be eaten–not looked at–not played with–not cor cartoons–TO BE EATEN ONLY!!
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Agreed!
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A story there, fersure…. Maybe not a good story, but yeah, I bet there’s a story.
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I’m not old enough to have had a set where you were supposed to use an actual potato, but I am old enough to remember when Mr. Potato Head smoked a pipe. I’ve kinda resented him since his toy handlers made him give up the habit…
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Yes, real potatoes. And hopefully you didn’t keep them too long…
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I remember how pissed my mom was when the original Mr. Potato Head came out. It required REAL potatoes in which you would then stick the eyes, ears, etc. We didn’t have a lot of money, and the idea of turning a potato into a toy instead of food did not sit well with my mom.
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And imagine how many Mr and Mrs Potato Heads ended their lives baked and slathered in butter.
Oh, the horror!
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Thanks for the bad dreams tonight.
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No problem.
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Anytime right?
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For you?
Of course…
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