To all my readers, please be warned that this is a rant. With random swearing (cover your ears and eyes if this isn’t your thing). But hopefully a justified rant once you read my somewhat coherent letter. Granted, this event happened a few weeks ago. But it’s only now that I can handle writing an entry about it without the world suddenly turning red.
Dear Jerky McJerksters,
The likelihood of you actually coming across this message is more than likely slim, given that I never mentioned my writing this (anemic) blog to chronicle my hobby. But that doesn’t matter to you. Because after all, if I’m correct at who you are, who were the one who made the comment of “dollhouses are for kids.”
Not sure if you’re aware of it, but that off-hand statement of yours is the equivalent of the shots fired at Lexington. You know, the one that lead to the Revolutionary War in this country of ours way back when.
But I digress. I am writing this letter to basically air my biggest grievance against you. You, who I see as the jerkiest of jerks, decided in an underhanded way to walk out of my home not just with leftovers of party food. But with also with one my dollhouses. Specifically my ARC.
That’s right buddy. I’m calling you out big time. At least in this blog.
Where to begin? Let’s start at the party that was hosted at my home around a few weekends ago. Correction: it was taking place at my residence because a dear friend of mine wanted to throw a farewell shin-dig for her brother. Because BK’s and my home was dead-smack in the center of where everyone lived, we figured sure, why not? Our friend will handle the logistics and even the clean up. All my husband and I had to do, was simply tidy up our home and help with entertaining guests. That included moving the ARC and the CC into one of our bedrooms and closing the door.
Now, I don’t know about you, but if you’re in someone’s house, and the doors upstairs are closed – that means you’re not allowed in those rooms. EVER. I mean, even a blind dingbat knows that.
But oh no. Not you, you big jerk. If you are who I think you are, I caught you upstairs a few times peeking in the room where my dollhouses are. Even my husband caught you once during the party when he wanted to check on our dog (who was happily chewing on her toys in our bedroom). You feigned curiousity at my dollhouses. Which I would have been OK with….if it weren’t for your comment stated above.
But alas, I have no proof of whether you took it or not. All I know was that after the last guest left, and clean-up began, I decided on a whim to go to the bedroom where my dollhouses where. I saw my CC in its unfinished state….but her sister the ARC was nowhere to be found. You can imagine my panic as I turned the room upside down, looking for it. Thinking maybe I put it somewhere else. But nope, it’s gone. My mid-century 1:18 scale beauty has been taken from me.
I guess BK sensed something was wrong because he came upstairs to look for me. And I had to watch the look on his face when I finally broke into tears and told him the ARC is missing. Followed by the shocked expressions my friend, her brother, and the few mutual friends who stayed to clean up had when they came upstairs due to my wailing.
My friend and her brother offered to buy me another ARC – because they felt that it was their fault someone they knew took one of my possessions. They shouldn’t have to do that, you big jerk. I refused, but had to relent when my friend in turn threatened to burst into tears from how embarrassed she felt.
So yeah, that jerk title I’ve been using? That just got elevated to “mother-fuckin’ fuckard of a douchebag”. Because you made my friend cry as well. Because you made my husband had to do damage control and comfort his wife until she managed to cry herself to sleep.
So after writing this, I’m going to order another ARC. And start all over. And in the meantime, if I see you, be sure you have a ready explanation to the EMTs as to why you have a size 7 shoe up your butt.
From one very angry hostess and mini blogger,