with a rant rant here and a rant rant there...

Dear Huntington Department of Roads,
You, like most places in the world, have potholes. It is a natural part of aging, don't be ashamed. Pot holes are the smile lines of asphalt. But like the people who drive on you, you have become obsessed with you appearance. And so, to combat these blemishes on your face, you have instead created little speed bumps all over the road. This is not really a solution for the long term. Concave surfaces are not fixed by overfilling and convex-ness. Imagine if Sophia from the Golden Girls had dyed her hair blonde. The rest of her would still indicate her age, the hair doesn't make that much of a difference. Also, the big steel plates, not as awesome as you think.
hugs,
Norway Avenue

To the Most Important People in the World,
What a privilege to be in the same Kroger as you! I am sorry that we wanted some of the same items, but blocking off the aisle with you carts kept me at bay! And way to keep that old lady with three items from getting to the check out line before you. Foolish woman! Also, I admire your courage in throwing away common conventions of protocol. Not only did you roll your eyes at people seeking to get past your cart barricades, but you shrugged off the judgment of others and took you two full carts and 30-some coupons to the 'Express Lane'. Who cares if the sign says "15 items or less"? You do what you want. You are the most important people in the world. May I just say that putting the check out girl in her place was genius? "You're earning you wage today honey." Priceless.
I salute you,
Just some ice cream and shampoo

Dear Loud Lady on Cell Phone,
No one cares about your business. No one likes you.
The end.
love,
the world.

back in the swing

So I decided to blogging again. Why you ask? Because of what JUST happened. I was watching a scary movie in my room when my roommate knocked on the door. She asked if I could come out to the back porch because there was a suspiciously calm and still cat on the porch. Donning my house shoes and brandishing a pink zebra broom (hers obviously), I saw the feline laying beneath one of the rocking chairs on the back porch. I did what any of you would do. I poked it. With the broom handle. Well, it didnt move. And in poking its paws found that it was completely stiff.
My roommate and I retreated back inside. She called our friend Kyle ("he's heartless and lives just around the corner"), but unfortunately he was not at home. Her fiance lives too far away and could not come over until tomorrow, after trash pick up. So we called a fine fellow church goer and he somewhat unenthusiastically agreed to help. I in the meantime had tried to psyche myself up to use the snow shovel, but no go. The gentleman and his handy daughter came and handled the deceased cat for us. But I mean really, who else does this happen to?