Dear Shite-head who stole our money,
I don’t know who you are, but I bet you’re one of the slutty little waitresses at the burger joint down the street that we eat at all the time. Listen, just because my one year old puts more food on the floor than in her mouth doesn’t give you the right to steal from us. Spit in our food like a normal slutty waitress. What about us made you think we had $600 to spare? Was it the cheerios in my hair? The snot stains on my shirt? The bags under our eyes? I hope that whatever you bought at Staples and shipped to your pimp pot-smoking geek of a pimpled boyfriend in Massachussetts catches his trailer on fire and also gives him crabs. You friggin’ b*tch.

Ok, for the rest of you who are not a friggin’ b*tch. Someone stole from us. Nearest we can figure, this person had my husband’s card, and got online to order herself some Staples schwag. She then sent said schwag to Massachussets. To her pimp. I discovered this after we started bouncing checks and such. Because we didn’t have a spare $600 sitting around. I guess we are going to be reimbursed, but it could take as long as 40 days. Bastards. I get all uptight about money anyway, and some of you might recall that I took a $16,000 pay cut for a return to my sanity last fall. It has meant some belt tightening in the old Shew house, but we are keeping out head above water. At least we were.

It is so infuriating. Here we are, working hard, trying to do the right thing, and POOF! There goes our little money world. All because somebody would rather shit in the sandbox than play nicely with everyone else. I am so, so, mad. And I feel violated. I haven’t been able to sleep. I want to crawl in bed with the kids. I haven’t used my card since it happened. Everyone is a suspect. And I don’t feel safe. And I hate whoever did this for taking that from us– more than for taking the money. She took our ignorance/innocence, in a way. So, I hope she gets crabs, too. Itchy crotches to all involved!