I recently quit my job of almost four years. I was a bartender at Ford’s Filling Station (owned by Ben Ford, Harrison Ford’s eldest son). When I quit, I had no plans, nothing lined up; I just needed to save my soul and get the F outta there.

On my last night of work I was rapping with two of my all-time favorite regulars and they asked me the question of the month:

“So what are you planning on doing after you quit?”

To which I replied, sounding like I have four brain cells, “Dunno!” as I threw my shoulders up to my ears like a Muppet.

Being that these two are cool as shit, they applauded my what otherwise could be construed as infantile recklessness. And then they gave me what could possibly be the weirdest (and thereby, the greatest) idea ever.

Okay, are you ready for this? (yeah, yeah, get to it already) Drum roll please…

I auctioned off my uniform on eBay. My unwashed, stained, pitted out, you-don’t-even-want-to-know-what-I’ve-done-in-this-thing uniform. INCLUDING: my pants, my shoes, my Ford’s shirt, my Ford’s sweatshirt, my socks, my bra, and my underwear that I ONLY wore to work. (I didn’t want to contaminate my nice undergarments by exposing them to my work environment.)

I know, it’s fucking weird. All of it.

This would be really pathetic (or, even more pathetic?) if it had been my idea. Completely conceited. I would hate myself if I actually thought up this scheme. But I didn’t, in fact, I needed some convincing, so I hope you don’t think I’m an ego-maniac. I really just have a lot of time on my hands now.

And truly, I can’t imagine who in the hell would want to buy the utter disgustingness that is my uniform. I literally keep my uniform (underwear, socks, bra, included) in my garage EVEN WHEN IT’S CLEAN because it repulses me. I was actually telling these two fab regulars how excited I was to BURN everything when they offered up the eBay auction suggestion. And what started off as a joke, escalated into a full-blown retirement plan.

I have to say, I was a little curious. Could there really be some lonely, housebound 400 lb man who’s seen the one Cold Case episode I’m in and has to have the socks that I wore for 3.5 years? Or maybe there’s a guy in Minnesota who likes to wear ladies’ brassieres and he’s obsessed with the shitty straight to DVD movies I’m in and wants to wear my threadbare bra under his suit? Or maybe a rich Japanese businessman who loves American blondes and wants my undies to use as a kerchief? Maaaaybe?

Or maybe a Harrison Ford fanatic who wants a Ford’s Filling Station shirt worn by an actual Ford’s employee who’s served Harrison on several occasions? More likely of a scenario, but it’s still a stretch.

But you know what? I went for it. Why not? I really saw no downside. Except, you know, if I ever do get my big break then that will be kind of weird.

On second thought, nah, I don’t give a shit. My theory was, if pigs fly and dinosaurs are reincarnated and someone really does buy my uniform or even just one item, I could really use the skrilla. After all, I have expensive taste in booze.

And I figured, more likely, when no one bids one cent on anything I can always resort back to Plan A: burn it.

So within a couple hours after posting my uniform and “etceteras” I got an email from a Mr. “gatekeeper” and I shit you not, he’s from Minnesota. And by the content of his email he could very well be that exact man I hypothesized about who wears ladies bras under his suits. His email was as follows:

“what sizes are the hoodie, shoes, bra and panty? can you describe what bra and panty look like? what colors are they? are they worn??”

Don’t you like how he tossed the hoodie and shoes into the mix? As IF he cares what sizes those items are.

At first I laughed and laughed and patted myself on the back, “bulls eye, sucka!” I thought to myself. And then I showed my boyfriend and he didn’t find it quite so hilarious. He looked at my listing, and pointed out that I put my full name in the description (at the time I thought it might be a selling point? Kinda-maybe-sorta?) And he reminded me that my info is all over the internet so really, if this bra-wearing-dude wanted to find me, it would be as easy as a google search. And so we both jumped on the freak-out train.

We immediately deleted my listing and then reposted it under a different user name. A couple of days later a sweet lady from Utah with an unhealthy crush on Indiana Jones bought my uniform. It paid for a large bottle of Grey Goose and a few mixers. God bless her.