Calling the divorce lawyer

He thinks he is just damn hilarious.

Fear not, A and I aren't getting divorced. But he's taking that fine line between funny and asshole and doing a vigorous tap dance on it. Oh, surely it can't be that bad, you tell me. Yeah, well, you weren't the one who ended up holding a stranger's size XXXL, period-stained granny panties.

A buys used DVDs, CDs, and video games at his used "stuff" store. Well, used media, whatever, anyway. People often bring in stuff to sell in mass quantities, and they bring it in such receptacles as laundry baskets, large bags, etc. A will give the customers a price for their stuff, they take the cash, and oftentimes will leave and forget their receptacle. After a week, A will throw anything unclaimed away.

So imagine my glee when A told me there had been a large, unclaimed Vera Bradley diaper bag that someone had brought DVDs in, and had long forgotten. I am a purse whore, particularly Coach and Vera Bradley. So after a long, giddy tard-style "Squeeeee!" I told him I'd be in to pick it up. (A couldn't just bring it home because he didn't want his underling adolescent minions thinking it was okay. So I was to come in while he was working the store by himself.)

I arrive at the store and he hands me this huge, gorgeous Vera bag, dark green and begging to be filled with every possible necessity I may need while being out with my infant. Cue another "Squeee!" and I'm on my way out the door when A mentions: "Yeah, we couldn't buy everything she brought in."

Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever, I'm playing with my new toy.

So I get home and am looking forward to transferring diaper bags, as I am holding a handful of diapers to stick in a side pocket, I find them.

By now you know what I found. But being the tard I am, I took the green cloth ball out of the pocket to investigate, thinking perhaps I had found another bonus treasure. Kids, I have never in my life seen undies so big. And I would call them granny panties, but grannies definitely don't menstruate, at least not enough to create the HUGE FUCKING PERIOD STAIN in the crotch of the panties. Panty liners, ya'll, they're a wonderful invention.

Yeah, A knew they were in there. That is the stuff they couldn't "buy". And he let me take my pilfered treasure, knowing the discovery I would make.

So in the end I put on dish washing gloves and took the panties to the trash outside like they were nuclear waste, washed the bag in hot water and on two cycles, and I kept the bag -- and refusing to use that particular pocket. And A apparently has very large, menstruating female admirers leaving love tokens in bags for him. Bret Michaels he is not...