Let's Get This Party Started

Potential wise saying of the day: "I ran three miles today. Finally I said, 'Lady take your purse.'" Emo Philips

It's February 1st - the beginning of my 46th year on Planet Earth.

So far in 2007:

I've got to go get checked out for Glaucoma.

My daughter's spine is twisting like a corkscrew.

Spent the equivalent of 15 bottles of medium-priced wine on matching my hair with my eyebrows.

Yesterday my Louis Vitton purse (it was a gift from a friend, obviously) was stolen.

The good news, some kind lady found my wallet minutes after some godless punk, I mean poor, misguided soul, tossed it out onto the middle of the street. We were all amazed at the fact that my credit cards, checkbook, bank card were there. Of course my cash, what precious little there was was gone along with my even more precious Starbucks gift cards - those pagans! And strangely enough my driver's license is also missing. Oh and did I mention that my new Louis Vitton purse is also gone.

Over and over we've thanked God that they only stole those few things. We were grateful in this manner because we are fashion morons. If we personally had known the value of the purse versus what the actual value of all of the cards in my wallet, we would have torn our clothes, screaming and writhing in rage. Had I understood what I was dragging around, kicking under bleachers, tossing it un-gently in the floorboard of my not-so-cleaned truck I would have, at the very least, chained the purse to my wrist the minute I unwrapped it. Or, more likely, stapled the thing to my thigh with a staple gun. Or perhaps, knowing my fashion moronicness, I would have simply put it into the closet in its little flannel bag and let it rot.

But no, I had to actually use the darn thing, blissfully ignorant that this flap of a cow's butt is worth more than my I make in 9 months as a radio personality...Ok so that's not saying so much about my salary...but still, you can gather that it's a boatload of cash.

But it's gone. Taken by someone who understood better than I the price a new Louis Vitton would bring on the street. I, to my credit, am wiser, albeit Vitton-less, person.

Happy Birthday to me.