In Which Le Secret Plan Is Introduced

If you're F, the woman who M cheated on me with, STOP READING THIS NOW because I'm planning you a surprise birthday party as a peace offering (bygones) and I totally don't want to ruin the surprise. 'Kay?

Ok. Now that The Unholy Slut-Whore From Hell has stopped reading, everyone who's left huddle up close. You are all in on what we will refer to in our secret plan language as, Le Secret Plan. Heh heh heh.
(I'm pretty sure the USWFH doesn't speak French.)

This morning on the subway I got sad. The woman next to me was finishing a huge bag of sour cream and onion potato chips at 9 am. Her totally terrible nutrition choice got me a little down, true. But the real tears started when I realized...

...that if I did get really really big for real and get to lumber (gracefully) around the city squishing people, I couldn't squish The Unholy Slut-Whore From Hell because I only met her once and can't remember what she looks like. (Editorial Note: I feel that, actually, that last italicized phrase should've been put in bold, but then I thought the USWFH's eyes might be drawn to it as she skimmed the page, and the proverbial jig might be up. So I used italics instead. Hehehe. I am so smart and tricky.)

Well, anyway, back to Le Secret Plan.

So I and the team of great minds who have brought us The Olsen Twins and one-calorie soda (?) got together this a.m. and developed the planne genius (I couldn't help myself with the bold there, but don't worry. The French will confuse her) that is currently unveiling...right...before...your eyes.

(God, this is fun.)

What I need from you my dedicated and gorgeous readers are two things:
Tar.
Feathers.
Oh, also quarters. This last is because this upcoming Thursday is my laundry day, and now that I'm gonna be giant-sized more often I will have a lot of large clothes to wash.

So, everyone with me? Great. Go to it. Leave work early. Don't worry, your bosses won't care. They hate her too. Get home and start ripping open those down comforters and melting those tires. We'll meet back here tomorrow.

In the meantime, I'm gonna go try to recreate that freakish chemical reaction that caused me to grow to a giant size in the first place. For those who haven't yet read yesterday's post and need to be caught up, the ingredients are:
1) Fury.
2) Mario Badescu Seaweed Body Lotion
3) OPI Nailpolish (Blushingham Palace, a shade from The British Collection.)

It's gonna be a looong, hard day of pedicures and lotioning for me folks. We do what we gotta.

(By the way, for all of you selfish, me-me-me kind of people who are in on Le Secret Plan, don't worry. Once I get really big and have squished The USWFH I'll take requests about who to squish next. So if there's someone you feel is in need of a squishing--or just a good scare--write to me and we'll see what we can do.)

GO TEAM!!

F, START READING AGAIN HERE. The surprise party is gonna be awesome. Eeee. I'm so excited! I'm totally looking forward to the two of us being great friends just like Anne of Green Gables and her best, bosom chum-friend Diana. But, because I just bought us those awesome heart-split-in-two Best Friend Lockets, I need you to do me one huge favor. *** PLEASE EMAIL ME YOUR PICTURE. *** Email address is on the right. Thank you. Big Hugs! 'Kay. Stop reading now.

Heh heh heh.