Ralphie Checks Out Olga

"WHAT'S THIS!?

A Crazy Cat Lady?!

Oh, my GAWD!

The horror!!!

But wait a minute....
I think...

I smell something...

mmmmmmm....
TUNA!

Can I have some?

Purrrrrrty pleeeezzzz?"

Rehab'n in PETALUMA/The Cat House

After enduring 3 weeks of blistering heat and ungodly conditions in "P.O. BOX HELL," I just wanted to hurry up and get the blazes outta Arizona! Not that I hold anything against the Grand Canyon State mind you, but in addition to claustrophobia and cynophobia...now, I can add thermophobia to my rack of insecurities! What's a poor bra to do?!

Luckily, my quick thinking little Italian chaperon wasted no time stuffing me into her purse (thus, avoiding any possible chance of loosing me in LOST LUGGAGE HELL) and hopping onboard the next plane bound for oh-so-cool-'n-foggy Petaluma, California. (The very place from whence I sprang nearly one year ago!)

Now all I wanna do is loosen up my straps and spend a few days rehydrating and airing things out in the rejuvenating coastal breeze ..........ahhhhhhhh..........

And while I'm back in town, I'd also like to reconnect with a few old friends...like the one who just so happens to live in this cute little house......recognize it?It's the infamous Petaluma "Cat House" where several years ago, hundreds of cats were found living (or not) inside the premises! The "Crazy Cat Lady" bought the house exclusively for her cats - who proceeded live, die, pee, poop, and procreate like animals inside for 5 years before authorities discovered there was "a problem." (All the nauseating details can be found here.)

Crazy Cat Lady said, "It started with just 2 cats and all of a sudden there were 196! I know this sounds bizarre, but I am a rational person." Yeah, maybe compared to "Crazy Rat Guy!!!"...another interesting resident of my beloved P-town. Geez, if only they had hooked up together....maybe they could have worked out some sort of an arrangement. So much for appetizers. Well, here I am about to enjoy a lovely home-cooked dinner (I think it may have been tuna?) with my friends inside the completely gutted, fumigated, disinfected, and renovated "Cat House." The food and company were divine, and a wonderful evening was had by all, but still...I just couldn't help wondering....what in the hell is that cage doing over in the corner?! Did someone say...meow?

POSTCARD FROM P.O. BOX HELL

Have you ever wondered, "What happens to things that get "lost" mail?" Well, having just endured a 3-week long detainment in the Apache branch of the Tempe, Arizona Post Office, I know...and believe me, it ain't pretty! Deep inside the bowels of every United States Post Office lies the "Unclaimed Package Bin," a cleverly disguised torture chamber which I will here and forevermore refer to as "P.O. BOX HELL!"

The cramped quarters, hellish heat, and creepy dark corners make this unforgiving dungeon a particularly perilous place for any wayward traveler, but especially if you just so happen to be a black lace bra who's already trying to cope with some big-time abandonment issues, and mounting claustrophobia.

Going to P.O. BOX HELL is every letter, package and parcel's worst nightmare...and the only way out is to push and shove and hoist yourself up to the top of the heap...and then do whatever it takes to stay up there and get noticed...which, even with my vast experience in that department, I found to be a very daunting task.

My cups runnethed over with a foreboding sense of doom as I witnessed dozens of sweet little cookies, who'd been lovingly tucked into Grandmas' care-packages, turn bad in their desperate attempt to attract someone's attention. Unfortunately, it usually just turned out to be ants.

P.O. BOX HELL also houses it's share of dubious characters from the underbelly of postal society...notably, those "discreetly wrapped in plain brown paper" guys...beneath their seemingly innocent facades, lurked things I wouldn't touch with a 10 foot pole! And some older packages had been there for soooo long, they'd abandoned hope of ever reaching their intended destinations and just sort of mentally "checked out" instead. One old fruitcake in particular, postmarked 1942, was so far gone, he took the term "fermented" to a whole new, odiferous level.

But the icing on the cake (and several of them were stinkin' up the place too) was when, late one night, a funny little Frenchman suddenly appeared outta nowhere wearing nothing but a leprechaun's hat and a big ol' Cheshire Cat grin!

"Sacre bleu!" he exclaimed as he spied me sticking out from among the huddled mass of postal refugees. "What iz zis magnifique and bodacious brazzeeire doing in a God forsaken hell-hole such as zis?!"

With that, he clutched me to his breast, snapped a quick picture...and Voila!...vanished into thin air! Was I hallucinating? Was I loosing my mind? Was I dead? Apparently not...and I've since learned that this guy is madder than a March Hare and created the whole "bra-napping" thing as part of a very clever publicity stunt.
(I tip my hat to your creativity, monsieur!)

Thankfully, my daring little Italian chaperon used her well-honed FBI tracking skills to conduct a search and rescue mission...once again risking life and limb to snatch me from the jaws of eternal postal damnation, and arriving just in the nick of time too...because if I had to spend one more freakin' minute in P.O. BOX HELL, I swear to God I woulda gone postal! But don't worry, that is never ever ever EVER gonna happen...because from here on out, it's UPS or FedEx............all the way, baby!

U.S. government surveillance photo of me and my intrepid little
Italian Chaperon bustin' outta the Apache branch of the
Tempe, Arizona Post Office
Signed, Sealed, and finally Delivered - I'm YOURS!