Postcards from the Edge
Next time you decide to make Terry drive you to Asda at 10pm at night, just because you suddenly realised that you couldn’t live for ONE MORE SECOND without buying new pyjamas (Yeah, and what was THAT about, by the way? Because you don’t even wear pyjamas, self, and you know it.), it might be a good idea not to leave your wallet, complete with all sources of funding, on your desk at home.
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Thanks for the loan.
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You never have size 4 shoes. Like, EVER. I seriously don’t think I’ve ever seen a size four shoe inside your store, other than than ones on my feet, obviously. And those black ballet pumps I bought two months ago. Other than that, though, NOTHING. And last night? I even checked all of the pairs of shoes I DIDN’T want to buy, and seriously, no size fours. What’s up with that? Also: you never have lingerie in a size 6, either. WHY? Stop sucking so hard in the sizing department, Asda, I mean, really.
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It’s the three sets of Tweezerman tweezers you put in the washing machine last night here. We were in your dressing gown pocket, and we did half an hour at thirty degrees, on a spin cycle. We weren’t amused. Check your pockets before you wash things next time. We don’t want to have to speak to you about this again.