There is a ghost in my house making my boobs sing. Also, I clearly have no taste.
A few days after Christmas, when we were in the midst of our 9 hour drive back from New Orleans, my boyfriend handed me a box and told me it was from his sister. Once I opened it and found that it was a pair of motion activated singing boobies, I laughed and put it back in his back seat, thinking it was a joke.
The next day when he came over, he brought the boobies into my house, and let me know I had forgotten them in his car.
I laughed and stuck them in a corner of my living room, where they have sat for three weeks.
I later found out that the boobs were actually a gift that Matt received last year at a White Elephant Party. He re-gifted them to his sister’s boyfriend this year, who in turn, sent them back to me.
Still, a gift is a gift.
When I asked my sister what she wanted to do with them, she laughed shyly and said that she had had the urge to touch them for several weeks, but that they freaked her out too much.
I strongly believe that one shouldn’t waste a good gift, and also that one shouldn’t waste any possible chance to annoy their siblings, and so while my sister was out this weekend-Matt and I decided that it was time to hang them up on the wall.
Classy right?
I think they go quite nicely with my most favorite piece of art ever, “naked chubby lady statue.”
The only downfall is that the singing pair of boobs has led me to believe that my house is haunted.
They are sensory activated, and so are supposed to go off whenever someone walks past them.
They have been going off all evening. I have been upstairs, nowhere near any boobs (except my own) all evening.
You see why I’m a little freaked out?
THERE IS A GHOST DOWNSTAIRS MAKING MY BOOBS SING.
The upside is that I finally decided to tackle unpacking my bags from New Orleans, only three weeks after the fact, and the song “Titties and Beer” playing on repeat has made quite the soundtrack.
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Danielle Pagani