At Least It Wasn't A Stranger's Pair

You know what's not cool? Waking up to find the Math Teacher's teeny tiny dog has pulled my underwear out of the laundry and is chewing on the crotch like it's going to give her everlasting life and happiness.

Seriously puppy, what the h!?

After I scolded her and told her that sort of behavior is just a step before ending up on Dateline's To Catch a Predator - "Why do you have condoms in your car little tiny dog?" - "Uhh, those aren't mine." - "Why do they have your initials on them, and why are they numbered?" - "Oh I like to know how many I use - I mean . . . shoot! I'm outta here!" - After that I jumped in the shower, and completely forgot about the whole underwear incident.

Until I got out AND SHE HAD THEM AGAIN.

I'm not sure how she got them, because I put them on top of my sister's bookshelf (you're welcome Becky) and this puppy is seriously like three pounds and as long as a football. But somehow that little sucker had managed to get them again and was now wearing them over her head like some sort of creepy, perv babushka.

I don't know what's going on, but I locked all my underwear in the bedroom, so if I come home and that puppy has my underwear again I will be a) impressed; and b) will have to ultimately come to the conclusion that my underwear tastes like Skittles.

THAT'S THE ONLY POSSIBLE EXPLANATION.