Dear Bed Bath and Beyond,

You're expensive. Seriously. Maybe I'm just cheap, but dang.

The other day, my pal and I roamed your aisles in search of sheets and omelette pans. We somehow found ourselves in a mountain of towels.

"Dude," I shouted, "this towel costs..." my right hand held up four fingers as my left hand formed a zero. I mouthed 'forty' as if it were a curse word. "...dollars!"

"Oh yeah? Well, this one is $60."

My jaw dropped to my knees."You're kidding, right?"

"Nope."

What's your deal, Bed Bath and Beyond? How can you charge more than ten bucks for a towel and still flaunt a grammatically incorrect logo? I mean, where's the money going? And where's the comma?

Anyway, my pal ended up buying me one of your plush towels. I can't really tell the difference between it and my Target special. Except for the fact that yours is much thicker. And softer. And more absorbent. Oh, and it reminds me of a woven-together piece of heaven.

Also, BBAB — you make me want to get married just so I can register for everything in your overpriced store. There are other reasons I want to get married (like guilt-free sex on demand), but free stuff is the main one.

Oh — awesome idea! I could register for Christmas presents. Is that rude and inappropriate? Yes, it is. I could totally send out Christmas cards with a footnote saying, "Registered at Bed Bath and Beyond."

I am so terrible.

Thanks,

Me