Find Me I'm Yours

Chapter 3

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What is it that makes someone think someone else would be interested in buying a tarantula for $15.00? Or for that matter, who would offer a hand job in trade for tickets to see a giant panda at the Washington, D.C., zoo?

I spend hours of my life on Craigslist. When I'm not trolling for better paying, less torturous jobs, I'm reading my fave things, the Missed Connections. These listings bring strangers together who experienced a brief moment of serendipity, and then take it a step further, trying to actually find the boy or girl or man or woman or other that they had five seconds of eye contact with (or even just spied from afar), buried among thousands of mundane postings.

"You were wearing a red hoodie in CVS, buying Gas Ex." "Burger King Cashier-you were on a headset and said, 'Thank you for your order.' I said, 'You have a great voice.'"

TOTALLY HOT, right? But who am I to judge? Maybe if I did a listing for even ONE of the random strangers I cruise on a daily basis, I would find my missed connection.

Before I even had a chance to get to the FOR SALE section to look for a cheap video camera, there was a knock at my door. My kids jumped from the bed and went crazy barking. I have two dogs that I rescued-one in Echo Park and the other on the Hollywood Freeway north, where she was running through traffic. Somehow I single-handedly managed to stop the cars and scoop her up like Xena: Warrior Princess, only stupid.

I did everything I could to find both their owners, and when I couldn't, I tried to place them in homes. Uh, for about a week until I realized Boo (shout-out to my first love!) and Toupee (well, she looks like one!) would be best off living with me even though the Asstress is allergic. Or maybe BECAUSE she is!

"Maggie!" S.H.A.R.I. called out in her sickeningly coy, manipulative, super-sweet voice that grates on me EVEN MORE since I caught her trying to grind herself into my boyfriend's lap. "Can you help me zip my dress up?"

Seriously? I mean it's no surprise she can't fit her surgically enhanced XXX-large lassies into her dress all by herself, but she has to ask ME to help? What's next, "Will you adjust my thong a little left so it goes right into my crack?"

"All right, come in." If I were going to be her dresser, she would have to go on her date with an allergic reaction runny nose and itchy eyes under her Latissed Miss Piggy lashes. Fair trade.

She backed a few inches into my room, lifting her bottle-blonde hair up off her spray-tanned shoulders. "I'm having drinks with a big producer who works at Paramount."

Well, a fitting studio since I have no doubt that after drinks, the Pair will Mount. Entertaining myself with a bad pun is just what I needed to finish the job. Once zipped, I said, "There you go."

"Can I borrow your black boots?"

Having an identity-stealing roommate is one thing, but does she have to wear the same size shoe as I do? "Sorry, I'm wearing them tonight."

"How about the black strappy platforms then?"

"Nope. Sorry. Those too. I'm going to some weird gallery opening," I started lying, something I never used to do before I met the Lacktress, "and I'm going to wear one of each."

As much as S.H.A.R.I. wants to mimic my every move, I knew this would be going a bit too far for her.

"Whatever," she said. "ACHOO! ACHOO! ACHOO!" She sneezed three times as she ran out of the room. Boo and Toupee were doing their jobs. As an added bonus, they even chased her down the hall, barking.