Time's are a changing

This week I realized that times are really changing.

I'm at my absolute whit's end with my neighborhood that I once would've given my right pinkie to live in...

The lack of a designated parking spot often leaves me carrying groceries for a minimum of two blocks-unacceptable, especially if I've already shredded with Jillian Michaels that day, I don't care for extra cardio, thanks.

I have absolutely NO patience for hobos (at one time I respectfully referred to them as "the homeless"). The audacity to not only ask me for my last hard-earned dollar, but to also ask "why not" when I say no? Seriously? That does not sit well with me for the next time...and I know there'll be one!

Not so long ago the sounds of Thursday night ruckus outside my window might have led me to throw on a flannel, take out the trash and see what kind of trouble I may participate in...now, I'm peeved that the noise has interrupted my sleep, since I've been in bed since Grey's Anatomy ended at 10 o'clock. How DARE they have fun on a week night?! And why do I feel the urge to yell, "You kids get off my lawn!"?

I'm looking forward to next Wednesday because the work ladies and I will be going out for a fabulous lunch...at the Souplantation...where we'll use coupons that allow us to eat for the stellar price of six dollars and ninety nine cents.

Also, if I have to hear Adelle on the radio one more time...some disc jockey is goin down!

Comments

Rowdy said…

flexeril or skilaxin?

OB, where the ghetto meets the sea.

take the 'j' out of job and you got OB

ps-the word verification for this was "imawtit"

almsot made me not want to comment...

June 9, 2011 at 6:51 PM

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Blonde Story Short

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