Identity theft; a thing of Dateline fodder, conspiricists' diatribe, and as of today, a huge mess that I get to clean up. Somebody stole my identity! Apparently, this person or persons have been going on some joy rides on my ticket for a while now. I just don't know what to think? I'm not Oprah, you know, there really isn't that much to steal nor is the identity in question that wonderful. I'm just a girl....with no identity!
The worst part about it all are the telluric, cynical, doughy sorts that inhabit the cubicles which hold the various papers I must sign and pass, sign and pass. I wonder who or what gets their turgid fluids flowing? George Clooney....or President Bush....or perhaps this? There's no way to know! I am at a loss! Everyone is suspect! Except me, that's one. And my husband, two.
The best part about it is that there isn't a best part. It makes for a very dashing yet terrifying ghost story to tell the moms at T-Ball practice. Unless one of those bitches did it. Which reminds me, I need to clear the air:
An Open Letter to the Person(s) With My Identity,
HAHAHAHAHA! I have nothing! Suck on that!
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