An open letter to the person (or persons) who broke into my apartment.

Dear Criminal,

I’m sure you had high hopes when you forced my kitchen window open with a screwdriver. What with the holidays upon us I suppose it’s only logical to assume a plethora of cashmoneyblingbling lay inside awaiting your arrival. I can only imagine your disappointment upon discovering that my only liquid assets come in the form of loose change. What I lack in material wealth I make up for in general awesomeness. On the plus side, a majority of it was in quarters.

The sight of my 12” Powerbook G4 surely must have turned that frown upside down. Lucky you, as they say. That brushed aluminum puppy was packed to the brim with “edgy” design software, “hip” music, and post-modernly ironic musings that will no doubt be erased as not to arouse suspicions by the Craigslist community.

The DVD player remote control may prove a bit useless to you since you left behind the DVD player. Then again, you are a criminal mastermind while I only have my college degree. And I live on a street that would have most Ivy Leaguer’s pissing their pants while simultaneously trying to cash in on urban gentrification.

Lastly I’d like to apologize for the lack of checks in my checkbook. I recently called in an order but Washington Mutual is taking their sweet ass time printing more. I should be receiving them in about 7-10 days.

Sincerely,
Mary

And all this time I’ve been drying my hair like a pussy.

Thank God no one reads my blog.

For the sake of creative development I signed up for a pole dancing class. (And not for the sake of humility) I showed up at the wrong dance studio. “Hi!” chirped the girl behind the counter. “What class are you here for?” “I’m here for intro pole class!” Immediately her grin vanished. “Uh…we don’t have a pole class.”

 

Enter Mr. Uncomfortable and his associate, Dr. Awkward.

This is what it sounds like when dogs cry.

Our city’s resources hard at work.

Guarding sheep. That are in a cage.