I was born in 1962; you do the math. (See also: I'm too lazy to remember to update this thing regularly.) I bought my first house in the summer of 2009; I share it three cats and with the memories of The Runt and Little Girl, who both passed away in 2011. Rocky, the cat for whom this blog was named, passed away in 2008; I miss them all. I wish I lived somewhere where the winters weren't eight months long; other than that, life is good.
So, I found this faaaaaaaabulous handbag at the thrift store the other day:
You can't really tell from the pic, but it's got all kinds of beadwork and sequins and other tacky crap. And a naked lady statue! So of course I had to buy it.
But the more I got looking at the statue, the naked-lady-with-naked-baybee statue, the more I started to wonder if the purse might be ... offensive to some people. Maybe they don't WANT to have to stare at naked lady while standing in line behind me at Walmart. What if a little kid sees naked lady and starts asking ... questions? THINK ABOUT THE CHILDREN, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
So, I did the only thing I could do. I got out a Sharpie marker and I went to town.
There. Suitably attired. Now I don't have to worry about catching a bunch of sh*t from some bluehair at Kohl's who's offended by my purse.
Ha! Me and my offensive purse. Now I wish I'd left her naked.