I so need to marry wealthy.

Recently somebody asked me what I want to be when I grow up. I laughed and replied that I needed to marry into wealth. I was kidding. Sort of.

Today we picked up Grandpa’s mail and discovered a Brooks Brothers catalogue that ostensibly should have gone to Renter Sent From God.

(We could tell this by the fact that HE HAS A CUSTOMER NUMBER. AT BROOKS BROTHERS. Did I mention how much I hate him?)

I have spent the better part of the evening paging through it and drinking. Not a good combination. I have fallen in love with each and every male model, and a good number of the female ones. What? They’re statuesque and very handsome.

On one page, a gentleman wears a bow tie. Without a hint of irony.

On another, a silk scarf is for sale- only $298.

My mom asked my dad how his cashmere sweaters were holding up- they were running a special, only $300 for three.

I am not feeling so good about my choice to pursue graduate degrees in history and theology. I can’t even envision a scenario in which either of those things ends up with me spending $200 on a twinset. Maybe in National Treasure. Maybe. But even they gave the treasure away, and poor Diane Kruger had to go back to paying off her student loans.

Hmmm. Maybe I should call customer service and see if they have Renter’s credit card on file. The evening could have just gotten better!


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