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Friday, November 15 Coming Out
Some of you may think that’s normal but for moi, who used to think expensive bedding meant not polyester, this was a big deal. I’ve tried the 75-dollar not-so-cotton blankets from K-mart (and clipped off the Martha Stewart label so no one would ever have to know that I purchased something from the peroxide anti-Christ). I’ve bought the 12-dollar pillows, the half price throws, the not-so-soft sheets. But you know what. My low budget bedding has caused me high-budget allergy attacks and worst of all, has cramped my sexiness. You just can’t be hot, when your bedding is NOT! So I went out and bought the whole shebang; 200-dollar comforter, 100-dollar duvet cover, 40-dollar pillows, 39-dollar pillow shams and a partridge in a pear treeeee. This is more money than I’ve spent on my bed since I tried to install that mirror…and…um…never mind. Anyway,while I should be sitting here congratulating myself on taking the plunge, I’m actually feeling totally FAKAKA because this and several other incidents seem to be signs from above. These signs point the way to a terrifying reality, a reality that I’ve lived my whole life in denial of. I may be a Jewish American Princess. Yes, yes, I know. How is this possible for rustic Rossi ?? Well.. read on. Just yesterday, I got busted when my Cubana, sensing I might have a little MSG problem asked me if I happened to know the phone number for my local Chinese delivery joint… by heart. I did. I DID! Hey at least it wasn’t on my speed dial….yet. Then there was the little matter of 100 channels of cable not being enough for me so I had to upgrade to direct TV and wop on another 200 or so. Now I have the divine pleasure of surfing through hundreds of channels I won’t watch. But I can! So between the expensive bedding, the kazillion cable options, the Chinese delivery addiction and the fact that I now, for whatever reason can no longer buy generic bath products, I do believe I’ve crossed over. I’m sure my friends will say, duhhhhhhh, when (and if) I come out to them and admit that I am a lady of luxury.. I don’t think any of them were ever fooled by my tattoo or leather. Or the fact that I’ve always covered up my fear of being a princess by being exceedingly snotty to princesses. “Don’t you know that outfit is so yesterday’s MALL!!!!” I’ve been accused of being a JAP before…don’t know what gave me away…Maybe the fact that I’ve never been comfortable staying anywhere that didn’t have room service. Or it could be my little taxi addiction. I am powerless over taxicabs. I must take them everywhere I go. Any city that doesn’t have cabs is a wasteland. Is it so wrong?!?!? What the hell..I guess I might as well embrace my true self..I mean if I can’t love moi than who can. I’m here…it’s clear…get used to……picking up the tab darling…. Now then, exactly how the hell do you get this huge comforter into this little duvet cover? And what the hell does duvet mean anyway? Sounds like a name for French drag queen. Madame Duvet Delight
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