Sticky

Somehow, somewhere along the line, someone got it in his or her head that I am a charitable sort, a giver not a taker (in addition to a lover not a fighter), and that I don’t just give a hoot but also money. This is evidenced by the abundance of bulky envelopes I receive in the mail, containing all sorts of pleas for my contribution to a variety of organizations that think I care about foodless children and beakless chickens. Included with the letters (addressed to me! personally!) telling me I can help out by opening my heart and my wallet are GIFTS as a special advance thank-you/guilt device in the form of return address labels/stickers (hereinafter referred to just as “stickers” even though I am tempted to hereinafter refer to them as “ohmygodyaysomuchfun”).
Now, see, I must confess that I rarely send in a contribution. (If I do, I am sure you know I care more about rebeaking chickens than I do about feeding children. It’s just that I would rather converse with a chicken than feed it to a child, and I can’t do that effectively if the chicken has trouble enunciating properly.) But I always like the stickers. However, I am always faced with this quandary: Can I use the them if I do not send a contribution? My dislike of the simple task of writing my return address stuff on bills (yes, I still pay some of them by mail) (and this shocks you, knowing what an old-fashioned girl I am?) is in direct proportion to the pleasure I derive from peeling stickers off a plasticky sheet of paper, so I am left clutching, in one hand, the plea-letter already torn in half (thus signalling my rejection of the plea) and ready for recycling, and, in the other, a sheet of stickers that will get me through a year of bills and thus save me precious minutes by this time next year, wondering if it’s right to keep the gift when I don’t necessarily “deserve” it.
What do you do? (Other than, of course, not only contribute money but build houses with Habitat for Humanity and host dinner parties for hungry child hobos.)
P.S. The latest batch came addressed to “Jodii [last name]”. Apparently I am so fabulous that I am now plural.

0 thoughts on “Sticky

  1. I took them. I have a bit of a… thing… for wet shoes. Specifically yours. I’ve been stealing your wet shoes for years, actually. I’m surprised that you never noticed.

  2. I cried because Jodi had no shoes until I saw her victim who had neatly lopped off feet…
    Then I laughed @ them.
    Yes.. @, not with…
    Then I begged Jodi (unsuccessfully) for oral release.

  3. Hmmm, speculating on the motivation:

    • Stolen by a woman with the same size foot, who was really taken with your taste in workout footwear?
    • Some guy with a fetish for well worn women’s shoes? (Keep an eye out for a guy with his nose in a shoe and a smile on his face.)
    • Your landlord is a neat freak who removed the shoes and consigned them to the nearest garbage bin?
    • A heroin junky pawned them for smack?

    By the way, did you process the crime scene for evidence?

  4. I hope you left a nasty, smelly, itchy foot fungus in those shoes (not that your feet emit anything less odorous than fragrant flowers.) Seriously, though, I hope your shoes give them a raging case of Foot Herpes!

  5. When I lived in California, I once saw a drag queen take off his/her stiletto shoe and beat another drag queen with it. The heel punctured skin several times and got stuck once, and for a brief second the shoe dangled from the breast of drag queen number two.
    The thief better hope you never find him/her.

  6. Hey! Sorry about your sneakers, people SUCK!!!! I had my favorite coat stolen at a party years ago. I was one of 3 girls there ( it was a gay male party, and the other 2 girls were BIG girls ) It had to have been a petite drag queen that stole it. Not that this info is going to make you feel better, but it might make you laugh. Anyway, now you know my real name, Maren, and you have my direct e-mail if you want to say hi. I hope you get either your shoes or the jackass who did it. Take care!

  7. Someone just needed to walk a mile in your shoes, for god’s sake. Then, unfortunately, when they took off the shoes at the gym (so as not too sweat in them in an untoward manner) someone stole them THERE.

    Ironic, isn’t it.

    And that, boys and girls, is why Goldilocks was a BITCH.

  8. Completely OT: I’m shilling for two friends in this year’s Blogathon.
    You (or your readers) can support them with comments, IMs, or financial support.
    Hope you don’t mind, Jodi. These are two really good blog buddies and they’ve been at it since 9 a.m. this morning, posting every half-hour.
    Everyone go give them a little boost any way you can!
    Thanks…. Terry 🙂
    Kat: blogging for MS: http://www.mysinglemomlife.com/blog/index.php
    Leigh: blogging for The R.O.S.E. Fund
    http://prismofwhispers.com/mtblog/

  9. I just got back from MoMA (Museum of Modern Art you uncouth bastards) and they have some really interesting new exhibits.
    The singular highlight for me was an piece called, “Trodden,” in which the entire room was barren save for two burly security guards flanking a well-lit podium. Perched atop the phallic marble was a plexiglass case. Inside, perched atop a luxurious deep lavender pillow were two rather world-weary sneakers, laces cast akimbo.
    Fascinated, I looked at the small black placard placed at the base of the case. It read, “Trodden
    Date: 21st Century
    Genre: Bohemian
    Artist: Anonymous”
    I was moved to tears, lucky to have been witness to such a deep display into an artist’s sole…

  10. I just got back from MoMA (Museum of Modern Art you uncouth bastards) and they have some really interesting new exhibits.
    The singular highlight for me was an piece called, “Trodden,” in which the entire room was barren save for two burly security guards flanking a well-lit podium. Perched atop the phallic marble was a plexiglass case. Inside, perched atop a luxurious deep lavender pillow were two rather world-weary sneakers, laces cast akimbo.
    Fascinated, I looked at the small black placard placed at the base of the case. It read, “Trodden
    Date: 21st Century
    Genre: Bohemian
    Artist: Anonymous”
    I was moved to tears, lucky to have been witness to such a deep display into an artist’s sole…

  11. latte –
    twice is nice, but thrice is just repetitively redundant overkill.
    Stop the insanity – keep Parkinson’s sufferers away from the return key. Remember, only YOU can prevent double posts…

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