Posted by: Jeremiah Graves | November 12, 2011

Confessions: I am a Kleptomaniac

My Faithful Readers, I’ve come here today to confess to y’all that I have a serious problem.

I am a kleptomaniac.

…for clicky pens.

I don’t really have any desire to steal anything else (aside from Jennifer Aniston’s heart), just clicky pens.

It makes pretty much zero sense given that clicky pens cost like three cents apiece, but whenever I see one…I MUST HAVE IT.

If I’m in a restaurant and they bring a clicky pen back for me to sign the credit card receipt with, you can guarantee that sucker is leaving in my pocket.

If I’m at the bank—and they don’t have the pens chained to the desk—and it’s a clicky-top, you can bet your ass I’m making a withdrawl that day! (Note: for those of you who didn’t get the joke…it means I’m gonna steal their clicky pen)

Whenever I’m at one of those free crappapalooza events—the kind where different companies give you trinkets and bobbles to entice you to try their brand of printer toner or their brand of six-times recycled toilet paper—I blow past all of the tables filled with keychains, cups and ID holders adorned with various company insignias and I head straight for the folks flaunting the clicky pens.

When I get to those tables, I load the hell up. It’s like Black Friday and I’m one of those crazy house wives who MUST GET ALL THE BRATZ DOLLS before anyone else does.

I go nuts and I turn into some sort of borderline sociopath and start playing the role of interested potential customer. I’ll listen to some dude ramble on and on about how his company’s tabbed folders are light years ahead of the competition because the angle the tabs are at makes ‘em more user-friendly.

The whole time Joe Tabbington is running his mouth; I’m stealthily sliding all of his pens into my swag bag and asking questions about the ergonomic advantages of not having to bend over to read what’s scrawled on the folder tabs.

Anyway, yeah…I love me some clicky pens and I’ll stop at nothing to have them.

I realize there are much cooler things a guy could be stealing. I mean, honestly, every month I’m responsible for counting up and delivering our library fines to our accountant type person. At any given point, I’m holding hundreds of dollars of otherwise unreported cash that I could pocket and go spend on hookers and blow (or—in my case—McRibs and softball gear).

Instead, I eschew all of that high-rolling excitement and use my wild klepto-ness on freakin’ clicky pens.

It is a sad-sad disease with which I have been afflicted, but it feels good to get it off my chest.

Just remember that the next time your pens go missing, you’ve been warned. Don’t flaunt your clicky pens in front of me or they become my clicky pens.

Author’s Note: Unless you’ve got stick pens. Stick pens can kiss my ass.


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