When Kleptomania Goes Too Far

It's sad times around the Bionic household. Baby didn't get pregnant this time, and I'm having the worst work week of the year. We've been reduced to only telling each other slightly comic anecdotes, for fear of setting the other off weeping. For instance, a woman behind me in the bookstore on Friday said to her friend, "I don't like Dickens, he uses too much language." That got a wan smile out of Baby.

On my walk to my run (I know, but I like to run around the pretty park rather than jiggle past our questionable, corner-standing neighbors) I overheard a rather longer story between two young hipsterish women who were walking behind me:

woman 1: "You know, she needs to understand that it's not OK to be that way all the time, once in awhile is fine, but not three nights a week."

woman 2: "Yeah."

woman 1: "I mean, if you wake up the next morning and are told that you were found passed out on the bathroom floor with some guy's pants and you have no idea how that happened, I mean . . ."

woman 1: "Yeah."

Some guy's pants? All the time? She's a serial pants stealer? There's more story here people, I know it! Sadly, they just went on to discuss how she was resistant to talking about her 'problem' with them. Boring.

what pants?

So I'm waiting, New York. Do some more funny stuff, stat! We need material!