Honey, I turned off the toilet upstairs. It was making that noise again. I opened up the tank and moved things around, but it’s still making the noise. So I turned it off.
Since I worked on the toilet today, I’d you like you to consider one of two gifts for me:
- A new handbag. I should pick it out. I love the one I got last week, but the strap is thicker than the straps on my clothes during this time of year, so it just doesn’t work. It makes my shoulder sweat.
Have you seen Kelly’s new one? It’s a giant middle finger to all of us. She went all the way to Vegas to get a bag with a python handle. Honey, did you know we can’t buy items made from python in California? It’s true. The snakeskin we see at South Coast Plaza is either fake or something called watersnake. I haven’t heard of it either, it must be some everyday snake in China.
Anyway, she went all the way to Vegas and got a Louis with a python handle and a bit of croc on the sides. It’s not all croc, but enough. I don’t know if we can buy crocodile here. Maybe it’s alligator? It’s an ugly bag, but it’s obviously awesome. I looked it up online and the price started with a 7, and I don’t mean $700.
It would be a good excuse to go to Vegas? It’s been so long. Remember when we took mushrooms there? I could definitely use a trip to Vegas. Let’s just stick to coke, if we go. No Molly and no ‘shrooms. Let’s stay somewhere in the Caesars-Bellagio-Wynn triangle. The right purse should be around there.
- If a handbag is a no go, how do you feel about me getting new boobs? Do you know I’m the only wife around here who does not have them? I know you said that you like them the way that they are, but my friend Julie said that you don’t get them for your husband, you get them for YOURSELF. Me. And I’ve always kind of wanted them. It would only cost a little more than the bag, and they would last 15 years. I’d never carry a bag for 15 years.
Julie said that getting her boobs done was the BEST THING SHE HAS EVER DONE. Ever. In the history of her life. The best. When she wakes up in the middle of the night, she can feel these full, youthful breasts through her nightgown. It reminds her of who she truly is. She feels loved. She is whole.
Plus, she said you just charge them to your Amex. Swipe the card and earn all those air miles. So, in a way, with the miles we earn from my boobs, we could go to Vegas, and get a purse with python in it! It’s win-win.
I want to be whole and feel loved too! I want my boobs to go into a bikini top like a plug going into a wall socket. Snap! That easy!
Plus, if I die on the operating table (I’d miss you in heaven, of course), death would totally get me out of that trip to Hemet for Dylan’s club soccer tournament in June.
“If I die before I wake, I pray that trip to Hemet, I need not make!”
Listen to me, I’m getting silly! So sorry :)
Let me know whether you’d like me to get the handbag (via Vegas) or boobs.
Or both!
Your assistant can arrange everything. I’m so excited! Love you.
PS: Don’t forget the toilet.
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