I have a public PO box, but I almost never write about anything sent to me. Also, I never check it, so twice a year the post office gets pissed, throws everything in one box and mails it to me. Last time, the most baffling package contained an actual kangaroo hand. No shit, y’all. Kangaroo hand. There was also a kangaroo scrotum in there, specifically marked for Victor. I can only assume the rest of the kangaroo was lost in transit. It was awesome and Victor said he was never going to open anything addressed to me again.
Yesterday a new box arrived and one package stood out from the rest:
But there’s something that made these towels stand out (even more than the fact that I would finally be able to wear a bath-towel that simply says “motherfucker” on it). The labeling on the cellophane:
That’s marketing, motherfuckers.
PS. You really shouldn’t send me stuff. Seriously. I suck at thank you notes and I almost never write about anything I get in the mail. Except for the towels. I had to share the towels.
PPS. And also this girl, who just sent me an envelope filled with fucked-up stickers. Victor came home and found that I’d put “FOR VAGINAL USE ONLY” stickers on all of our cups and plates, and there were “EXTRA FANCY” and “MAY CAUSE DISCOLORATION OF URINE” stickers all over the kitten. Then Victor got all pissy so I put an “AGGRESSIVE ANIMAL. OBSERVING FOR RABIES” sticker on him, and then he stuck all of the “UNDER MEDICATION” stickers on my face. Which was unnecessary because one is enough, Victor. Then Hailey asked if she could have some, and it felt weird telling a 6-year-old that I wouldn’t share my stickers with her, so I gave her the foreign-language ones and the meat-product stickers, and she put a “BULK SAUSAGE” sticker on Victor’s shirt. Then, after she left, Victor shrugged and said, “Whatever. Bulk Sausage was my nickname in high school”. I love that man.
PPPS. “PARA USO RECTAL SOLAMENTE” sounds very pretty, but you shouldn’t let your child bring those stickers to school. Also, I should probably learn some Spanish. And that’s why I’m not allowed to join the PTA.