We will not discuss the fact that I put a whole pile of unwanted items by the curb at the request of Goodwill because I am too freaking lazy to haul a whole closet full of unwanted crap across town to them.
This has nothing to do with the fact that I was emboldened by the idea of anonymity offered by the good folks at Goodwill, so among all of the unwanted ottomans, mismatched shoes, and armless dress mannequins was a platinum blonde wig.
I won’t even tell you about the pair of size 11 Lucite stripper shoes, the coordinating trashy ensemble size XXXL, or the pipe and silk smoking jacket I included in my generous donation.
This post has nothing to do with the fact that my neighbors ransacked my loot mere minutes after I placed it outside, and stole Every. Damn. Thing! We will not talk about my firm belief that my surfboard is now listed on E-Bay, or my loss of a tax deduction this year.
I refuse to tell you that now I feel compelled to explain to the thieving bastards in my neighborhood that the stripper get up was a Halloween costume, or at least it would have been if the DDHBF (Doo- Doo Head Boyfriend) would have agreed to play one of The Girls Next Door to my Hugh Hefner.
Who steals from Goodwill anyway? I have decided to avoid eye contact for the next ten years instead.
I considered writing about how I now believe in God, because Mr. Fussy Pants left for vacation yesterday , and that was the exact same day that the electricity was disconnected at the new World Headquarters of Fussy & Bitchy Inc. because someone (ahem) forgot to transfer the service. If that is not divine intervention, well then, I do not know what is.
I almost blogged for help when the electric door locks trapped me in the aforementioned office with six pissed off co-workers and no air conditioning. At the very least, I was going tell you how disgusting it is to have sweaty boobs.
If we were going to talk about boobs I could have told you that yesterday, for the first time since seventh grade math class, I removed my bra without taking my arms out of the sleeves of my shirt. I think that was the best thing I learned in the seventh grade. However, that is not the point.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I was going to admit that I spent the weekend repainting the kitchen for the third time in six months, but it was a holiday, and that seems pathetic, even to me. Pathetic and disturbing, because really? Three fucking times is ridiculous.
I know that about now you are
The best thing about this particular entry is that it is not about CHEESE.
You are welcome.
PS- Have I mentioned that I am amazed that you take the time to e-mail me? And, how much I appreciate you?
Because I am, and I do.
I rully, rully do.