Thursday, June 24, 2010

The One Where You Can Drive The Getaway Car.

Dear Lover,

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.
Or DaVinci.
Or Monet.
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.


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