Look sherriff, this is not just a local story. This creature has been spotted across this country.

It's so cold in my house right now that I'm wearing leggings under my nightgown. As if the nightgown itself wasn't sexy enough, I had to spice it up with some spandex! It's not a piece of lingerie, it's more like this:
with these underneath

If only I had some curlers! If there was a fire in my house--first off, I'd run to it because I'm so damn cold--I'd have to steal Dom's robe before I'd go outside. Is it weird that I think about those kinds of things? If I was forced from my home in the middle of the night for some disastrous reason, are my p.j.'s decent enough for public? Speaking of embarrassing--yesterday I called the number that I had written down as my doctor's office and asked for an appointment for my annual Pap Smear only to have the voice on the other line tell me that I had dialed the Sherrif's office. True story. This shit happens to me.

Anyway, It's really not a matter of fashion. It's more like, Are my bazoombas visible right now? I don't want the whole neighborhood to be "linin' up the block just to watch what I got." You know? I definitely don't want to be vulnerable out in front of the crazy FEMA trailor couple.

They're ALWAYS fighting. They obviously hate each other and just stay together for convience and someone to scream their frustrations out at. I just want to leave a Post It note on their car that says "Break up already!" Yesterday I heard her yelling, "You don't understand! I hate this fucking trailor!" Okay, first, yeah I do. I hate your fucking trailor. It's the hellacious redneck view from my front door and your bitching is all I can ever hear outside. So then he replies, "All white people are psycho just like you."

Whoa, back that crazy train up a minute. I am not nearly as crazy as your trashy girlfriend who is obviously just frustrated with the construction taking waaaaay too long. Seriously, are you guys trying to finish it with telepathy or something? Also, aren't you both white people?

Sorry, that chunky paragraph was just for them. That too would go on the Post It. And, "Don't park your car right behind my driveway." But then they'd know it was me. Eh, I feel bad for the girl. She was nice enough to come tell us that the dome light was still on in our car. And her boyfriend sounds like a genuine Slidouchebag. He was making laps around the neighborhood at about 80 m.p.h. after their fight while she was looking for her dog. I think he was trying to hit either.

The next time they decide to include the whole neighborhood in on their "private" affairs I'm busting out the popcorn and watching from my front porch with a giant foam finger that says "Go Psycho White Girl!" And if they wake up my baby? They're getting a poopy diaper in the face.