I consider myself to be a good friend who is guilt-ridden about leaving her peeps behind in a place where the homeless often dresses themselves in garbage bags and mistakes the 7 train as public lavatory. So when comments such as “I want a set of dolls!” are posted on my facebook page, I have no choice but to determine: A. Just exactly how good this facebook friend is to warrant a set of dolls and B. Will they be willing to pay for international postage?
Since I never do anything without a backup, I have a second set of blank dolls, which I cover with glitter and dub it “The Divas.” Along with a card it becomes a birthday present to a righteous former colleague who takes time out of her busy schedule to keep me in the loop with work gossip. There’s nothing I enjoy more than a story about how a student I used to teach threatening a teacher with a plastic knife.
Despite the fact that every surface of my place, including the cat upstairs, is covered with glitter once the dust settles, I am dying to visit that avenue again. There’s nothing like a pile of sparkling flecks to make a person truly happy.