so i was picking up my friend's full-length mink the other day...
i could stop there, couldn't i? but i won't.
the place was nice but kind of a hike, and there was a doorbell. i stood there for a moment while the guy inside stared hard at me and i stared hard back at him and that's when i made the decision not to ring the doorbell. they let me in anyway. i think because of my furry mitts from pour porter peeking out.
fur shops are strange to me. i'm not anti-fur or anti-anything, for that matter, but i felt like i was choking in there. it smelled old. and everyone was unattractive, but trying super hard to make you think they were not unattractive. did i just write that? oh, my. i should've stopped at the choking bit.
so they give me my friend's mink, which is the longest most beautiful richest color piece of perfection that kind of made me make the same sound i make when i am cuddling with one of my people. the end.
wait. there's more.
so i walk out of the shop, merrily making my way to my car when i hear FUR! IS! MURDER! and i thought about it in my head as i was walking and agreed. good point. for sure. it is murder. unless the animals in question have already perished. then it's simply serendipitous, yes?
again with the FUR! IS! MURDER!
and i looked at this group of grungy fellows on my right, one with a camera and all looking at me, and i smiled and nodded politely and said something along the lines of it sure is, mister.
and then i looked down. you'd think that my first thought would've been dummy. you're. carrying. a. giant. bag. out. of. a. fur. shop. with. the. name. of. the. fur. shop. emblazoned. across. it. sadly, it was not. my first thought was a hissper to myself they see my mitts!
anyway. i hid my hands under the gigantic mink and smiled my most reassuring, brightest, non-threatening to all animals of the world smile and assured those lovely boys in a bit of a panicked voice that IT'S NOT MINE! IT'S MY FRIEND'S!
i didn't tell them she has others. and i won't tell her what they said, either.
p.s. my friends said i could wear the mink as much as i want before they come to pick it up, with only one rule. i must wear it to lacrosse games while puffing on a filtered ciggie in one hand, a dirty martini in the other. i will be sure to instagram that as soon as it happens. also, for the record, my mitts are not even fur. they're just so darn...furry.