I realized recently just how much I tend to be drawn to art thief books, television shows and movies.
What does that say about me?
I can tell you exactly what it means.
If I had the opportunity.
And the means.
And, let's face it, the guts.
I'd become an art thief.
Little black capris.
Black flats, large oval sunglasses, and a beret over a blunt-edged bob.
(Because art thieves are decidely French, apparently.)
Nevertheless, I'd steal a work of art.
But not just any piece, mind you.
A great art thief would never sink so low.
A great art thief instead, would go for the big one.
And I'm not talking about Picasso.
I'm talking their favorite.
The one that is most sentimental...
All I know is.
You might want to take that into consideration.
The fact that you'd better keep me as far away as possible from a certain art museum.
Or you'll have an art thief to call your own.
As well as an original Modigliani...
And a girlfriend with a bad case of hat hair.