Showing posts from June, 2013

Balls In A Box

That's our mailbox. And that's your mirror. The one that fell off you car when you rode your vehicle up onto our property and sent our mail receptacle flying onto our neighbors lawn. I retrieved your mirror from the street just in case you need it. It's sitting on top of the mailbox, just above your balls, which I also retrieved from the road. I think you threw them out the window as  you sped away. I didn't think you would miss them, since you don't appear to be using them.

Paper Strips. I Don't.

You know what's a pain in the ass? Shredding bills and bank statements.  It's time consuming, it's messy, and one box of paper creates three trash bags full of 1.5 inch X .3 inch paper strips. I want my bills to now be sent on cheese. That way when I shred them, I can at least at do something with the by-product. Put it on a sandwich, throw it on some pasta, toss it on top of some corn chips - all of which is better than trying to shove 20 pounds of paper into a trash bag meant to hold no more than 10 pounds. Great nachos CJ! Why thank you. That's my electric bill you are eating. I shred everything. Cable bill? Shred that bad boy. Don't need anyone seeing what extras I rented (don't judge!). Phone bills? What if someone finds my itemized statement and starts crank calling my relatives? Shred it too! Retirement statements? No one has to know I need to work for another 70 years. Shred, shred, shred! Amazon receipts? Ohhhh no. None of your bees wax. Yes, I