First things first- the thong wearing mailbox was not stolen. I caught a glimpse of a propeller hat above the fence and when I went to higher ground to get a better look (I realize how stalkerish this makes me sound, no need to point it out), sure enough- thong wearing mailbox.
So I can only imagine that he either got tired of it (highly unlikely) or the city told him to take it down. Either way, it has returned to it’s happy home in his backyard where it can hopefully no longer be the basis for random nightmares.
And as for my faith in humanity?
Gone. Adios. Kaput.
The last three days have been epically horrid in the land of RISTLTMB.
I should have known that once I mentioned being anally probed by aliens that things would get ugly. But I had no idea.
I was truly unprepared for what possibilities lay in wait.
Never in my wildest dreams/nightmares did I ever think there was a person out there into Victoria era alien porn.
I was blindsided by the person looking for blowup dog sex dolls.
And I was creeped out by the situation that prompted someone to search for “slipped from uterus”.
What has the internet done to us? When did it become okay to first think these things but then actually type them out hoping for results. Who really needs to see Henry VIII (this is probably not at all in the Victorian era but who gives a rat’s ass- well except the dude who was specifically looking for the Victorian era alien porn) getting it on with ET? Not I.
There aren’t many words to describe the sadness that is the blow up dog sex doll. Can’t even find a real dog? That is the true definition of loner.
And I’m not even going to touch the uterus thing.
That’s just gross.
I need to just stop looking. I think it would be better for my well being in the long run.
Tomorrow- I’ll stop tomorrow.
But then again there will probably be something even worse tomorrow. And part of me really needs to see how on earth it can get worse. I’ll hate myself for it, but c’est la vie.