Well, I'm really sorry about that. It happened once, and I told you I was on my way to the market when I dropped my contact somewhere in your garden. You know the little rose garden by your bedroom window. Not the bedroom window you tripped on your nightstand by that one night you were watching Mean Girls in your Hello Kitty nightshirt but the window by your hope chest with the cornflower and seagreen runner that doubles as a vanity. By the way I love the new bedspread.

Um. Please tell me you have a hope chest/vanity with a cornflower and seagreen runner. I have been running out of things to mock you for.

Well, breaking in and stealing things can be mighty creepy, too.

My ex-wife's sister was, shall we say, well endowed. (I say it that way because using phrases like "large rack," "massive bazooms," "big, jiggly jugs," or "ginormous love pillows" would be totally inappropriate on a dignified site like this.) There was a neighborhood kid that broke into there house and stole her bras. Repeatedly. They had to get a restraining order.

Here's the (un?)interesting thing: the movie "Dave" was partially filmed in their home town, and the kid has two seconds of screen time as an extra. So the next time we all sit down to watch "Dave," I can show you my ex-wife's sister's bra-snatcher. That's all.