In celebration of the birth of the newest

In celebration of the birth of the newest member of the royal family, I decided to send William & Kate a baby gift! I settled on something I thought no one else would think of...a

fur coat, some crotchless tights and the keys to an ant-infested flat above a fish-processing unit in Scunthorpe. I thought I'd done well, as I popped them in the mail (no stamp re

member because I kept putting off going down to the post office to buy stamps and I totally forgot that you buy stamps at the grocery store), so the thing never got mailed.

It stank up the house. "Enough! I'll go to the grocer's," I said in a fit of rationality. I handed the clerk a sheet of 20 stamps. She asked, "Does '12 items or fewer' mean nothing

to you?" She pointed to the sign clearly stating. I sighed. I needed each and every one of those twelve items, which one was I supposed to get rid of? My fairy godmother appeared,

flipped me off, then disappeared. I smiled at the clerk, a charming grin. She folded her arms and glared. Maybe juggling would convince her! Gradually, I added each of the 12 items

the 9 item cash only express lane. "I'm sorry, sir, er, ma'am, but rules are rules," intoned the weary cashier. "But they're all YOGURT. Please?" "Fine." I pulled out my checkbook.

You can't expect to take 475 packs of yogurt through the 9 items or less express lane. I knew that, but damn it I hated this store, and I'd do anything to cause trouble there even

if it meant pretending to have an epileptic fit in the wine aisle and projectile vomiting on random shoppers with my pants around my ankles. God, I hate this store.