Fuck the Po-lice

And by po-lice, I mean my insurance company.

Got their initial, low-ball offer today. I mean, it wasn't that low, but I think I can get more out of them.

Especially since their comps for a 2002 WRX with 90,000 miles were mostly Imprezas and Outbacks with 120,000+ miles on them.

Assholes.


In other news, my parents dogs are bad, demanding and adorable.

I bet my next girlfriend will be those three things too.

I Picked the Wrong Day to Quit Sniffing Glue

Post subtitled: I have always depended on the ineptitude of strangers.

Sooooo today I was taking a wee break from work to run some errands.

As I approached my car I thought "Hm, that's weird, I don't remember parking my car at a 45 degree angle, half on a snow bank"



and then it hit me: I didn't! Some stranger was kind enough to take their car and ram it into my car, achieving that awesome new parking spot.

That was so nice of someone. To be able to manage hitting my car so hard that it moved 6-8 feet. I am really impressed they were able to generate enough force about 25 feet from a stop sign, on a turn, in front of a school to smack my car this hard. Wow!

Thanks again!

It's worse than it looks. The other car apparently had to be towed.

Wasteland

I am reading Patton Oswalt's new book right now. It's a nice read; funny and compelling, but I noticed something. So many of these new books AREN'T books. So many of these new celebrated authors don't bother writing novels. They are mishmashed memoirs and jokey sections. I could totally pull this off, and it is much easier than a novel. Thanks lazy readers/writers, for giving me hope.



Speaking of memoirs I wish I could write about half the shit that happens to me in here.

Instead I'll just continue to complain about my car. The radiator exploded and the windshield needs to be replaced. Trust me, that is so not as interesting as the real shit I want to complain about.

Apparently we are all lined up for another snowpocalypse again today. I don't really care. It's all the same to me.

To bright futures.

GAFABP

Back in the saddle! Also have some exciting news for you fools, stay tuned.

Good Advice from a Bad Person! Hooray!

Dear Tony,

Often times at work I have to deal with old, crotchety people on the phone who are dealing with computer issues. 98% of the time, these issues are due to their own incompetence. How would you recommend telling these self-centered geriatrics to go fuck themselves without saying something that would get me fired? Also, I have a voice that makes me sound like kind of a dick...and I tend to tear people down who are even slightly wrong...and I don't like anybody. Help?

Kisses,

Whisper-screaming "Fuck" Loudly When I Hang Up Every Phone Call

Well W-S"F"LWIHUEPC,

If your letter taught me one thing - it's that my readers have a common enemy - the olds. Olds continue to be a blight on my readership, frustrating and terrorizing the gentlefolk who love my blog.

All of my old advice (smiling and nodding, taking comfort in their impending deaths) still applies.

But, I can't leave it at that. You need some personalized, special advice. First off, your voice should make you sound like a dick. This is ok. This is probably because you are better than most people you talk to, and your subtle inflection and diction should convey this. Don't stop. Don't you ever stop.

Tearing people down who are even slightly wrong is a good thing. You are an advanced student already. People who are wrong need to know it, tearing them down works, as does belittling them and simply chortling so they draw their own conclusions about their personal ineptitude.

You don't like anybody? Join the club! Anybody sucks.

On to the advice. Since you're not smart and/or skilled enough to not have a job where you have to talk olds through the nuances of double-clicking vs. single-clicking, quitting would seem to be out. What you have to remember is that old people are easily confused and misdirected. You could probably tell most of them to go fuck themselves without getting in trouble as long as you immediately change the subject to something old friendly. I suggest bananas or coupons.

An example

Old: "Waaaah I'm a shitty old crone and it's your fault I can't comprehend basic functions of a machine that has been around for almost twenty years waaaah"
You: "Go fuck yourself you crotchety dustfucker"
Old: "Waaaaaah what's that? Speak up"
You: "Holy Toledo! Bananas are on special at Safeway this week, I bet you could annoy their underpaid manager into giving you a few free ones if you start to talk about your colostomy bag!"
Old: "Waaah what a great idea! Thanks for the tip! I will now offer you some disgusting candy nobody eats except shitty old people as long as you sit through some super long rambling story about things that have nothing to do with each other."
You: "Go fuck yourself"

Do all of this,

Tony


Despite being able to do this, this guy still shits his pants daily.

Playlist

I'm posting up one of my favorite types of playlists, and it probably is only the first installment. The BREAK UP PLAYLIST. A very easy playlist to gather songs for, since musicians are babies who get dumped constantly and write songs about it. Now there's all sorts of break up songs; angry, sad, hopeful, different hopeful etc. We'll see how this one plays out.

Nothing to see here.

1. No Children - The Mountain Goats Let's start this one off with a bang "I hope I lie / and tell everyone you were a good wife / And I hope you die / I hope we both die"
2. Puke + Cry - Dinosaur Jr. It's called Puke + Cry, I think you get it. I love Dinosaur Jr.
3. When will you come home? - Galaxie 500 I love this band, they are great to fall asleep to. This is one of the sad break up songs.
4. Jericho RVA - Running in Circles "When it's all over we'll say we had it good / what a backwards way of saying what we mean" Excellent band, like if Avail and Hot Water Music had a baby. That reminds me!
5. Hot Water Music - The Sleeping Fan "I spent everything I had / and I gave everything I could to you / and I left myself with nothing but a burning mess" We were due for an angry one. Burning mess? Nice.
6. Exit Wounds - Tim Barry I think the title is unsubtle enough here.
7. Nights Like These - Lucero Being a drunk, warbling, pseudo-country band you better be able to write good break up songs. And Lucero is. This is probably their best.
8. Dedicate it - The Afghan Whigs This entire playlist could be Afghan Whigs songs, Dulli makes great, evil, heartbreaking break up songs, but this is probably my favorite.
9. O'Rourke's, 1:20 AM - The Good Life This is a song about how everything sucks just a little more when you are recently single. Their best break up song is definitely Inmates, but I couldn't bring myself to put a nine-minute song on this list.
10. The Martyr - Cursive Wow, this song is brutal. I needed to put a song on here about how shitty I am. "Sweet baby don't cry / Your tears are only alibis / to prove you still feel"
11. Don't Hate Me - The Get Up Kids This one is one of the positive, hopeful break up songs. Well, every break up I played this song during ended up permanent, so there's that. Plus I just love Four Minute Mile so much, I had to include it.
12. Rocks Tonic Juice Magic - Saves the Day Saves the Day and the Get up Kids are forever linked in my mind, so I had to use my favorite STD break up song. "You and I are like when fire and the ocean floor collide" was certainly a favorite AOL away message among girls I knew back in the day.
13. Nice and Blue - mewithoutyou "You were a song I couldn't sing / You were a story I couldn't tell /I've only ever loved myself / but I've loved myself so well" Their name is mewithoutyou for Christ's sake, I had to include them. I love this song

13 already? There will definitely be a part two to this one in the future. There are just too many break up songs out there. Or maybe I've just had too many break ups. Either way, you win.

Diary of a Hater

You know what used to drive me BONKERS and, as I found out from youtube, still does?

Kids who are horrible at Legends of the Hidden Temple.

Quick! Give him your life pendant!

The questions in the beginning were super easy. If you got eliminated right off, you are a moron. Second, the challenges were super easy. Third, the temple was super easy.

The hardest part about the entire temple was a 4 rung ladder. Seriously. How did you not make it through the shrine of the silver monkey? It was only three pieces! THREE PIECES! How did you screw that up? Watching these mouth breathers struggle to put together a foam 3 piece puzzle inspired so much rage in me. It wasn't even a maze. It was just some rooms were locked. Turn around, big deal. My favorite part of the show though, in retrospect since it made me furious at the time, was teammates palpably hating each other. First, the dude would go. He'd be sliding through doors in his team colored sweatpants, busting through walls, climbing through the fake snakes. He was killing it. Eventually though, a temple guard would get him. On to the girl. Who would meander around the temple, never running, go into rooms that were already locked, screw up puzzles, push the same door button over and over while it didn't open and just fail miserably. This is really funny to watch now.

That's one of the longer paragraphs I've ever written on here. Bitching about kids failing at a gameshow from 15 years ago. Moving on.

I've always wanted a piece of the Aggro Crag. Saw one on Ebay once for $35,000. On to Mo for the results: TOO EXPENSIVE. I'd probably pay $500.

People who don't have tattoos always look at mine and tell me their ideas. It is funny to me. People without tattoos always have elaborate plans for their first one. "Well yeah, it's like a butterfly in a circle. The circle represents my grandmother because she was always "AROUND" get it? And I'm the butterfly, because I took a long time to realize I'm a beautiful person, and they both also represent change, cause like a butterfly changes, from a moth into a butterfly. and it's also about my sister. cause she's like beautiful."

Or they just come up with horrible reasons for their completely standard flash tattoos. See above.

Also don't call them tats, or tatts, or ink. Tattoos is fine. Plus it is fun to say! any word with double o is fun to say. Boobs, taboo, woot etc.



Jason must be stoked. I wish some girl would get a tiger face in the shape of a butterfly with my name under it. How romantic.

Rank your tattoo? Ok: last.

Addendum

This is the greatest picture of all time. Even better than this one



Just found out that "The Boys", which I recommended earlier, is being made into a movie. Today's lesson: If you want your graphic novel made into a movie, have me read it. Also: Please make this work for Preacher, thanks.

AND! Today's Bitch of the Day!

The power went out today from those wicked thunderstorms that rolled through. I live next to a nail salon. Where I moonlight. Ok, only the first part of that is true. Anyway - so my power's out, their power's out. That didn't stop some wobbling main-line troll from getting her nails done. "I don't care if you have to dry my finger and toe nails with one of those old fashioned paper fans! I can't miss this appointment, my Pomeranian needs to get to the groomer!" I imagine her shouting. Being ever industrious and kind, the nail workers obliged. They fanned her freshly painted hand and feet sausages with old fashioned paper fans. Way to go lady! You're the bitch of the day.

Tony's Always Right / Diary of a Hater

Hey, nice goal USA - but seriously if this makes more people name their sons Landon, it'll be for naught. Why not Lando? Lando>Landon. When I get rich, I'm buying some professional sports team, moving them to Florida and renaming them the Orlando Calrissians. They will be the best team ever and wear purple capes. The end.

Baron Administrator? I think you mean Space Pimp.

You know what I don't hate? Finally having a phone that works. Android for life! Android>iOS

Awwww

Heyyyy everybody, be better at driving please. Those lines painted on the ground? Park between them. Not just near them, or on them. I know you can't really drive that massive SUV your Dentist husband bought for you so you wouldn't have to be seen in a minivan, but please, try to keep it between the lines. And yo, bro, I know that's a beemer and all, but put it in a spot. I know you're in a hurry, as evidenced by your bluetooth conversation, but putting your hazards on out front to grab your quad iced venti non-fat two pump sugar free vanilla caramel macchiato is not an acceptable excuse.

There are bad drivers everywhere, but most girls are mostly bad. I've noticed recently this driving strategy a lot of girls have adopted. Was there a driving lesson episode of Sex & the City or something? Are these instructions stitched inside Ugg Boots? HOW DID SO MANY GIRLS LEARN THE SAME SHITTY WAY TO DRIVE?

Alright, here's the technique - See that car in front of you? get as close as you can. Not to pass them, just to follow them. Get as close as you can with that stupid lei hanging off your rear view and just stay there. So many girls do this. I've had them behind me, in their Eclipse, with a Roxy sticker, checking their hair in their rearview mirror which is pointed at them and not the road, getting way too close. So, my natural reaction when a car comes up quickly behind me is to just scoot out of the way and let them pass. BUT THEY DON'T PASS. You change lanes and then they just hang there, where you left them, lost. Left to their own devices, with no car to follow, they don't know what to do. Their dopey cars just hanging there in the left lane, with them inside making the face a dog makes when you ask it a math problem.


Wait, what?

Why do they all do this? How did so many girls learn to drive this way? It's baffling.



Hey ladies, stick to the hoods.

GAFABP

So, first Friday of the new schedule and I have one GAFABP for you. I wanted more but you jerks didn't send them.

Dear Tone Bone,
I have been living in San Francisco for four years now. Don't get me wrong, it's my favorite but, I can't shake the whole "something's missing" feeling. Your thoughts?
Tongues Out,
Megha

Dear Megaman,

Ahh, many people on the west coast share this feeling of yours. They are missing something, some je ne sais quois they can't quite place. This essential, tough to recognize element missing on your temperate coast is, what I like to call, people who aren't douche bags. While your life my be full of perfect weather, beautiful people and all sorts of vegan delicacies, what it is missing is people who don't have their heads up their asses. Come to the east coast where you can enjoy being berated by strangers, whose feelings of better-than-you-ness aren't hidden behind massive sunglasses, v neck shirts and drop crotch pants. Here in Philadelphia, you get the burgeoning gay night life you've come to love in SF but without the entire city smelling like a wharf. Ours smells like a shit refinery atop a pissy subway car. I've been to San Francisco! Your hobos are so charming with their clever signs and shticks, but you might enjoy the veritas that is masturbating homeless men who will probably stab you. So gritty! Don't worry, we have Whole Foods too.

So, to answer your question, all these sun bleached Californiatards have made you forget what real people are like. You need more angry, hurried, jumpy people in your life. The constant threat of violence and tongue lashings will really put a hop in your step. Hey, you might get tased or puked on! I hope this helps.

Yours,
Tony


Well there you have my first foray into GAFABP. Keep them coming please and I will continue to berate you.

Got my car back today. I think the culprit behind all these wacky hijinx was a mouse! A little mouse crawled up into my car before I had it and chewed through a bunch of wires, causing the multi thousand dollar nightmare foisted upon me. Thanks mouse. Dick.

Thursday Taste Lesson

So I guess Wednesdays are Tony has nothing to post Wednesdays, works for me.
Tough run lately. AT&T is boning me royally, my phone is completely broken and worthless and they won't replace it. AND if I want a new one I have to pay full price PLUS some dumb 75 dollar fee. Sweet. Car's been in the shop all week, I've been driving a Forester loaner. Work was canceled last night, my internet was out almost all of today, backing me up with about 20 hours of work. So here I am blogging! Hooray! The highlight of my week so far has been a giant turtle I saw crossing the street.


So on to your first taste lesson. First up - television. I am going to recommend a show which just started it's fourth season. Friday Night Lights. I know, it looks like a dumb high school drama football show - and it is. Beyond that, this show is excellent. If you've never seen it you wouldn't know that they don't take the typical approach to making television. Tons of hand-held shots, long takes and ad-libbing. Almost every shot was the first take and there is no blocking. The (surprisingly talented) actors are allowed to move around and inflect as they see fit. This bold move gives the show a different, more realistic feel. The writing that is there is excellent, the characters are more nuanced than you'd expect from a show like this and the story lines are Americana melodrama. I can't recommend this show highly enough. I have been waiting way too long for the fourth season due to some programming hell the show went through and I couldn't be more excited. I am watching The Wire on DVD right now, and to be honest, I like FNL better. The Wire feels a little emporer's-new-clothes to me. Maybe I'll sing a different tune once I've finished it. Anyway, watch FNL - thank me later.

Second up today - music.



I might have mentioned this band before. Red Clay River. I caught them opening for Tim Barry and have been listening to them way too much since. They are from West Virginia, I don't just say that for trivial background. They wear it proudly. They are a smoky mix of Tom Waits and Modest Mouse and hillbilly country. They make funky, rollicking music for the holler and show an impressive ability to craft pretty, wistful big-sky-and-open-car-window tunes. I enjoy them thoroughly, you should too.

Tony's Always Right Tuesdays

As both a hater and an elitist, nothing is worse than when something goes from underrated to overrated. These twitter days, it's tough for anything to remain underrated for long. People glom onto something with even a shimmer of potential coolness and run it into the ground. Any/all types of bicycles, Carlos Ruiz, alt-country, eating fads - everything comes and goes so quickly anymore.
I really think accessibility is to blame/praise for this. Bitter old man rant begin: When I was younger, new music was sought out. You found it at shows, on merch tables in the back, at shitty record stores you took the train to - it wasn't on Itunes or LimeWire or whatever. You earned these bands, you had to try at least a little to hear them. You couldn't google them and they didn't friend request you. Bitter old man rant over. Just kidding, it's ubiquitous.

I think these things become so overrated so quickly because people can't just like something new, they have to love it - to show how cool they are. The more someone likes something, the more credibility they have. I like Animal Collective more than you do! You might like them but I downloaded ALL their albums! They're the next Beach Boys! The hype grows, the quality fades and we are left holding our LPs wondering.

I'm so old. Everything is ironic. Everything is hype. Irony is a dead scene.



I don't care how ironic you're being, you look like an asshole.

My point is, you aren't missing anything. If you think something sucks, it's because it sucks. When your whole life and persona are based on acting like something is cool because it isn't - you're an idiot. Your tastes have become so perverted and collective you have no clue what is or isn't actually awesome anymore. I like Motley Crue - sorry for the lack of umlauts - not because they are ironic but because I enjoy their songs. I don't like Poison, they suck. Winger sucks. Get it? You like the hair metal band with good songs! Not the one with the ugliest outfits or cheesiest image.

Got my first GAFABP submission yesterday, keep them coming! Got that little box that should work for submissions (you can submit anonymously there, no email required).

It always was my biggest fear to die without changing a Goddamned thing

As I ramp up my job quest, I am thinking about what I will be doing. I always had this idea that I would never do some bullshit job. I would never work in a cubicle or worry about accounts or reports or any of those seemingly endless office jobs that accomplish nothing. Well that idealism is butting up against realism. I am still looking for a job that will require use of my brain, and not make me want to die every single day. I am sure there will be concessions. Every day we concede a little more. One day we're wearing a tie and singing happy birthday to some fat typist in our office and looking forward to a grocery store bought ice cream cake in the strange smelling communal office fridge. Shit.

Does it really matter what we do as a job? Is it really part of our life like that? Or is it just a vehicle to other kinds of happiness? Does it matter what I do from 9-5 of every day of my goddamned life? Or can I just use that money to set up model trains or collect coins or whatever the hell else middle aged men hobby at. Can I be happy being the secretly tattoed accounts manager at some whatever business? Living my real life in the evenings and weekends? Or will it eat my soul. chomp chomp chomp.

Alas.

Looks like I'll be getting a new car in the near future. Suggestions? Another concession. I used to drive these 'bombs.' I loved them, I loved having a car that made me happy. I would drive around just to drive, smoking cigarettes, changing CDs, brooding, laughing, dating - living what I wanted to be my life in these ridiculous cars. Then I kinda grew up. Small concessions here and there. I drive a "new car" now. At least it is fun to drive, fast and exciting. Maybe that's done too. Maybe my next car will be a Nissan Sentra. I don't like it. I know it is childish and immature, but I love my car. I hate my car, but I love my car. Maybe I can just switch from loving performance to loving practicality and fuel mileage. Ugh, I don't want to grow up.

Join the Bush Club

I am straddling a dangerous precipice. On one side - the boring, grassy valley of banal; the other a chaotic drop into the rocks and cliches of melodrama.

I guess that first sentence pantsed me and showed off my penchant for the melodramatic.

I guess all blogs are one or the other. Some boring laundry list of dumb stuff people really don't care to read or the preteen angst of a whiny girl. So far I think I've done both! "Blog about it!" is now the burn of choice bandied about by my friends. Can't say I don't deserve it.

I am really resisting the urge to bitch about how AT&T has righteously wronged me, or how the legal system is currently failing me. I can tell you the blogs that I enjoy are just usually making fun of stuff. Right in my wheel house.

Yeah that didn't segue into me making fun of something as well as I would have hoped.



Some days I wake up on my couch and look at my dustbunny floor and remember my dinner last night of a string cheese and 3 musketeer bar - mostly because the wrappers are right there among the area rugs and ikea furniture, I think - I have arrived! Arrived at a fairly appropriate station considering what I've done to get here. Is this the staving artist of today? No it's the willingly malnutritioned underachiever of today.
I'm done with being an underachiever, I don't think I'll ever overachieve, but that's mostly a product of my healthy (read over) confidence. I am ready to achieve! What that means exactly, is still open to interpretation. Will I get a job that utilizes my talents? Or at least a job that doesn't atrophy my brain and allow or even inspire me to pursue creative outlets on the side? That's the next step. The one I have already begun. I am looking for jobs and reading and writing and hoping.

Let's do this.

It Pours

If the shit flows downstream I am at the bottom of the waterfall right now.

Anyway.

I'm reading, and reading. I am beginning to think I am at a disadvantage here as far as life experience goes. First off, let's get the great authors of the 20th century out of the way - I am not an alcoholic. Second let's take care of all these current writers. I am not some tortured soul with some sordid childhood. My parents are still together, I never got bullied too badly, I have had girlfriends, I didn't spend my childhood friendless and listening to records. I am no wallflower, I have no pathos to mine for the good of my writing.

I could easily invent one. I could write the story of some tortured soul and tickle all the kindred spirits whose lives aren't as hard as they wish and think.

Or maybe I'm on to something. Maybe I could write something that people can actually relate to. Maybe most of us are this social middle class. We aren't all lepers and we certainly aren't all homecoming queens.

Code Blue

My mind was boggled and my ghast was flabbered twice at dinner this weekend.
To set the scene: Lovely Lady and I are feeling peckish. She's got a hankering for the mussels of the bar we go to too much.
It's dinner time on a weekend, so we suspect the place will be a shit show. It is, but we find a seat at the bar. We are seated between the loudest man who ever lived and a mind numbingly boring couple which consists of a pandering boyfriend and his fake wine snob girlfriend.

The LMWEL is like an infomercial pitch man, shitty movie dad and Dick Vitale rolled into one. He's there with what I assume is his son, just aggressively talking at him the entire time. Everything is shouted and everything is advice-y. Not good times.

The couple is just a typical lame-o couple. The girl orders some wine, the bartender brings her a glass. She tastes it. The 'tender asks her how she likes it and before rendering her verdict she needs to know what it is. He tells her it's some whatever white wine from Chile. Ooooh yeah I like it, she responds. Then she lectures her boyfriend on the quality of Chilean white wines, but the crappiness of Chilean reds. BLAH BLAH SNORE SNORE. If this girl had gotten a Franzia and he told her it was a Chilean white she would have said the same crap - she asked what it was before saying if she liked it. People are dumb. Wait, I'm supposed to show, not tell. I think I did both.

Unfortunately, enduring those two bookends was only the beginning of the human car crash.
Older couple, enter stage right. They look around for a seat, not finding one they manifest destiny eminent domain our corner of the bar. Reaching over an eating Lovely Lady to order and drink Chardonnays with ice. We have our food at this point. The slightly more manly half of the couple pulls up a chair for his blushing bride at the corner of a bar. Which, as we all know is NOT A SEAT. The place their icy goblets in such a place that whenever they want some they have to literally reach over Lovely Lady's muscular platter. Getting frustrated we dip out to make a phone call and take in the air (read: smoke a cigarette). We announce our intentions. The old fella didn't understand our announcement and asked Lovely Lady if we were leaving. She courteously responds with a definitive 'Nope.' Our 1/4 eaten food, personal effects and Nope were not enough to convince him, he turns to me - "You're NOT leaving?!?!"
No, sir, we are not (paraphrased).
At this point in the retelling I really want to admire this fellas stick-to-it-iveness. Kudos.
Within moments of getting outside we take a break from our bitching about the horrible people inside to notice he was, indeed, not dissuaded. He set up camp in Lovely Lady's seat. Baffling. Creepy, shitty, rude old dude is now talking and leaning and carrying on all over our dinners.
We come back in, he gets up, makes some corny joke and goes back to leaning on Lovely Lady's chair. We couldn't believe it. Lovely Lady was too creeped/grossed to finish her meal. We necessarily switched to drinking. Well, she did.

Those three sets of insanity finally made their way out and we joked and laughed with the bartenders at the sheer craziness that our night had been to this point. 'People these days...' and all that.

Then came in some younger couples. Mid 30s. The last couple to arrive comes in toting a baby in a baby carrier thing. Great, we'll have to deal with a shrieking baby. So they come in, great their friends and blow my mind. They plop their baby down - ON THE BAR. Baby on the bar. Where it stayed for the next hour and half while the parents joked and drank with their friends. Baby on the bar.
I of course texted my friends about the craziness going down. Funny responses: 'Body shots!' and the command 'Spin it!'

I am glad I am not horrified, but amused. People are crazy, rude and self centered. The least we can do is laugh at them. Not our place to straighten em out, but to laugh at them in the comfort of out-of-earshot and blogs.

Just Write

Wow I really didn't intend that title to be a horrible pun. Deal with it.
I started this intending to write. To become better at writing, to stay in practice. So I couldn't let a day pass without an entry this soon after I began.
This is my favorite time of year - my birthday, baseball and the weather turning the corner. So far so good.
Apparently this nice weather has inspired the people of my little hamlet to burn down their houses. I live 100 yards from a fire house and it has been jumpin' today. My window is the perfect height for their shrill sirens to blast into my living room and infuriate me at the poor sons of bitches who require their services.
Also, since I am so close to the corner I get to listen to people's excellent choice in music as they are stopped at the red light. Wow, that's an excellent song you are playing at full volume in your mom's volvo. Is that some new pop tartlet? Wow, she's great, thanks for sharing that with me.
I think I am going to throw water balloons at them from now on. Hey kids thanks for jumping on the metal basement door right below my window every day! I dedicate this headache to you. But hey, it's a pretty street






Also, since I am such a hipster, the Holga wasn't enough - here's a polaroid I took.