There's nothing worse than being insulted because of your appearance, well, besides, say, terminal illness, famine, war, murder, injustice, or having to sit directly in front of a crying kid who keeps kicking your seat on a plane...that's about to crash. Also, see: poverty, stupidity, living in Washington, DC, and irregular bowel movements. And, of course, being evicted, being dumped and being caught, which brings me back to my original point -- being insulted because of your appearance blows. But being caught and insulted for your appearance doubly blows.
The Post wrote a couple days back: "Montgomery County police released surveillance photos Tuesday of a broad-shouldered shoplifting suspect who they said left Saks Fifth Avenue with a $2,000 Chanel dress and could have been a man masquerading as a woman."
Seriously, for this possible woman's sake, I really hope she is a man. I can't imagine that does anything for the self-esteem to be an actual woman who's mistaken for a man...even in a $2,000 Chanel dress...
Alleged cross-dressing crime aside, though, there's a larger point to this blog's nonsense. What's worse than being caught and insulted for your appearance is reading in the Post about a "woman" who apparently stole a piece of overpriced cloth (sorry, I'm not much of a Chanel fan) from a store in the suburbs. I mean, is this the most important news the Metro desk could come up with? It really makes you wonder when a local blog run by someone who has a fulltime job that isn't "reporter" can come up with more legitimate news items than one of the nation's best newspapers.
And sure, you can argue, "But Marissa, what have you done?"
The answer is nothing. I simply act as the city-wide ombudsman (and village idiot), whose job it is to complain and point out flaws while doing little to nothing to fix them. Not to mention, when you've been reenacting scenes from Sideways for the past week, it's hard to keep up with what's been happening in DC, let alone care.
But, yes, I'm back from my grand West Coast escapade. Let's hope I can come up with some better material tomorrow...
However, in an effort to save what is objectively probably one of my worst posts, I will leave with a little taste of what my helper horse Sven did while I wasn't drinking Merlot in California.
Sven says he's never washing his muzzle again. Once you go Putin you never go back.