Dear Moron,

I noticed that last night, you indulged in a great deal of recreational vandalism. While I admire the perseverance you displayed while trying to break into my car, I have a couple of suggestions to help you be more successful in your career of nonviolent crime:

I believe I am qualified to speak on this subject because I had to call the Auto Club to come and unlock my car FIVE times in the last 6 months. I’ve seen the professionals break into my car enough times that I could rig a tool and break into my car in ONE try, all by my girly self.

Three separate professionals who know all of the effective ways to break into a car have dubbed you a “Moron”. All three of the professionals who examined your handy-work have separately exclaimed “Moron! They didn’t even do it right!”

From the artistic reshaping you have done to the doors of my sedan, it is apparent that you made three separate attempts to get Bessy to uncross her legs. Its also apparent that you study under the criminal masterminds behind the UPN and FOX television networks. In real life, if you are targeting the make of car that I own, a crowbar and screw driver are not the tools of choice.

It appears that you were interested in gaining access to the cabin of my sedan. I’m not sure why you would do this, as the vehicle I own is by no means a Pimp-Mobile. I drive an economy car with low-technology gadgets like a single-disk stock cd player and a cassette deck. It would be much more worth your while to swipe a new, boxed, mid-range cd player from WalMart.

If you had taken the time to look in the window, you would have seen said cassette deck. As a matter of fact, there was nothing else in the car accept a bag of pinecones flocked with artificial snow. If its really that important to you, you can have the stinking bag of pinecones, but it would have been a lot less stressful for you to just walk down to the end of the block and pick some up off of the ground.

There appears to be a direct correlation between your timing, and the start of the retail holiday season. I understand that the sounds of the season are enough to make anyone want to pick up a crowbar. On my lunch break this afternoon; I was forced to endure the sound of Amy Grant screeching Jingle-Bell Rock. Believe me, I was looking for my crowbar too! I couldn’t find my crowbar, so I will spend the rest of the season shopping online from my home.

I would advise you to put your crowbar to better use next time. Instead of going after pinecones and cassette players, use the crowbar to poke a hole in the hood of a car. Open the hood and steal a radiator or a carburetor, or an alternator. The aftermarket price on these and other “ators” is much higher than the aftermarket price of pinecones flocked with artificial snow. Besides, I have 74,000 miles on my car, its probably time for me to buy a replacement for one of these “ators” anyway.

In addition to your Artwork d’ Crowbar, I want to thank you for the Artwork d’ Fingerprint that you left on both doors. I’m so glad that I happened to have my car washed the night before you visited: the only prints on my car are yours and mine. Your swirls and loops were beautiful and clear underneath the fingerprinting powder this morning. The cars you’ve broken into are a dime-a-dozen, I’m sure, but I’m so glad that I have one of your official autographed masterpieces on file at the local police department.

Sincerely,

ekd

More blog and comments after the jump:

I’m home sick with the mother-of-all-colds. I ditched work and ran home to lie flat on my back as soon as the first sniffle showed up, because I was determined to beat this thing. Well, four days and three boxes of tissue later – I’m trying to lie to myself and convince my body that this is not turning into bronchitis.

My dear husband is stuck here in the ReallyTiny apartment with me. Twice a day, he asks if he can pick anything up for me. I’m sure the poor man needs to just get out of here for a bit. He’s the husband, so I expect him to make two trips to pick up the right meds, and stop at the store for orange juice, but I can’t just leave it at that, can I?

I never turn down an opportunity to be babied, so I milk it pretty good. Sick people really *need* to read the latest issue of their favorite magazine, really! It’s November, I know this is California and we don’t really have a winter, but I was in the mood for cherries and artichokes. Off he went to the organic market that is nowhere-near-our-home.

Wheezing and coughing loudly, “We’re the cherries really $12?” Insert another choked cough, “Aw, you shouldn’t have!” laboriously reach for another tissue and a handful of cherries, “mmmmmm, thank you honey! You’re so sweet to me!”

My husband can sleep off any illness. Cold, flu, malaria (ok, kidding about the last one). He gets sick once out of every 5 times I’m sick. When “we” start coming down with something, he sleeps for a weekend, and wakes up fine. I’m sick for a MONTH!

He was born and raised at the north pole (well, let’s just say that Pine Point was Santa’s first stop on Christmas eve). He has the kind of super-human immune system that will some day be used to find the cure for AIDS, Cancer, and the like. Pine Point was a zinc and lead mining town. Maybe all that early exposure to snow and zinc is what keeps him from ever ever ever getting sick!

But this, this is the mother-of-all-colds, and I heard him cough once and sneeze once last night, so I’m gonna creep around the ReallyTiny house like a ReallyTiny mouse, and let him sleep for 16 hours today.

This is really a challenge, because I’ve been up, awake, bored, and lonely since 7 a.m. I’m also hungry and too sick to go to the store. I’m doing everything I can to entertain myself, including: reading my magazine, reading my book, and reading every blog known to Woman.

Oh, my virgin eyes!

MiniMartha: “Have you heard of Myspace?”
Me: “No. What is it?”
MiniMartha: “Its like ICQ but you can leave messages when people aren’t signed on.”
Me: “Hmm. Ok. So?”
MiniMartha: “I keep hearing about it.”

So of course we have to go check it out. Sign up, create a profile, find your high school, blah blah blah. It seems a little more popular than Classmates so I start nosing around for a couple of people I graduated with. I started mindlessly following links, looking for a familiar face, only to be accosted by the waxed and airbrushed hmm-hmm of a girl who was in my 7th grade science class.

Two years ’til the high school reunion. Oh Boy! I just can’t wait!

Ladies and Gentlemen, Libarace has left the building!

We did it! We finally ended the placesetting madness! MiniMartha hooked me up witha 20% coupon for a Mikasa outlet store, and I went to town. The poor boy who asked if he could help me find anything got a run for his money.
“Yes, I’ve returned 6 sets of dishes because they were all warped. I need everyday dishes for 6 and china for 12. I’ll pay the money, but I need to make sure they’re not warped!”

Three-and-a-half hours. I spent three-and-a-half hours opening and inspecting every piece in three 92 piece china sets, and three 30 piece sets. That’s 366 dishes people! I felt like Emily Gilmore! Let this be a warning to anyone considering setting up house!! The store manager had 3 sales associates on their knees repacking the dishes I unpacked!

I had to get a referral to the store from a friend’s mom, because, let’s face it: What do I know about buying housewares?? This Mikasa store happens to be in the town were I grew up. It’s been there since I was 17 years old, and I’ve walked past it many times without the slightest interest in looking in the window.
“Bah! Crystal, I don’t like crystal!” I honestly couldn’t tell you what was in the store, because I had never looked. While the sales people were running around doing my bidding, I had some time to browse for the first time.

Marriage really gives you a new set of eyes. Suddenly, I’m justifying a 3-tier desert server because we have a Really Tiny apartment with a matching Really Tiny diningroom table. And those ugly lead crystal watergoblets from Auntie? I drop them in the sink all the time, and they never break! I really should buy 8 more! And why on earth would I pour water into lead crystal goblets with a plastic water pitcher? Hey! The glass snowflake ornaments are only $5 (and our christmas tree theme is snowflakes)!!

Hubby got a phone call from the store: “Honey, will you let me back in the house tonight if i swear that i’ll never buy another dish again?”

Six Sets of Returned Dishes: $0.
Three tanks of gas driving to retail stores: $150.
Calling stores to see if they have this set and that set: $4.
Not having to listen to your wife whine about warped dishes: Priceless.

Monday:
Put meat in heating-thing.

Add half a can of this
and half a can of that

Turn on heating thing.

Wait.

Scoop out with a big spoon.

Tuesday:
Put different meat in different heating-thing.

Add half a can of sauce
and half a can of stuff

Turn on heating thing.

Wait.

Scoop out with a big spoon.

Why didn’t someone tell me it was this easy?

I’ve gotten into reading blogs. Lots and lots of blogs. When it comes up in conversation I’ll mention to Ian: “Oh, today on dooce, she posted…” as if DH is as interested in these blogs as I am. But, he loves me so he listens.

I shared with him, word for word, in excrutiating detail every aspect of mnc’s post about her kid singing Tequila makes her clothes fall OFF.

He thought the story was so incredulous that he had to go download the song from Walmart.

Later, we went for a walk. You know, just to walk, lose all the honeymoon pounds. Excercise. Fresh Air. Sunshine. Tostadas.

Yup. We made it a whole six blocks before we stopped for lunch at the local Mexican restaurant.

We often joke around changing the words of songs to fit an occasion. Instead of Tequila makes her clothes come off, I was singing “Ponchito queso stroganoff” – DON’T ask, It made sense at the time. He laughs and at the next verse chimes in with:
“Tostada’s make her clothes not fit.”
“That’s it, we’re jogging home.”
“I’m not jogging home.”
“Fine.”

When we got home, I sat down at the computer.
“Did I piss you off enough that you needed to blog about it?”

No. Of course not.