Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Life in these damn burbs.

There are few things more depressing or stultifying than municipal buildings built in the 1970s. God. What was wrong with people? Cocaine can only be blamed for so much.


Oh, my god, I DO NOT CARE that your kid is an honor student. NO BODY CARES. Your kid doesn't even care. Especially the middle school one.

PS Your dog is not smarter than that person's honor student. Your dogs eats shit - its own, other dogs', even people's. That is not the sign of intelligence. Just stop it. You lost in the Parenting Capades. Stop trying to overcompensate.


Yes, I will buy your Girl Scout cookies. Because I believe in what the Girl Scouts stand for - proudly LGBT-friendly, gender positivity, strength of character. And also because OMFG SAMOAS.


This Target isn't big enough for the both of us. Step away from the clearance rack and put down that bath mat. It's the exact green I need. Move it, or I will end you.


This construction on the direct route between my house and the nearest Costco and the market where I get my vegetables is going to be the final push that sends me careening toward murdering people who DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW TO FUCKING MERGE. I HATE YOU SO MUCH.


Nobody wants to be part of the block party. Stop making it a yearly thing.


Yes, the suburbs are monotonous and homogenous and devoid of interest, but very rarely do I have to avoid stepping in someone's vomit.


  1. You had me at OMFG SAMOAS.
    I want to be your neighbor.
    I know how to merge.

  2. We are in a whole new burb, having moved to Southfield. And that whole 96 rebuild thing of a couple years ago was a total pain in my ass. I still think that whoever was in charge of that construction, which finished a whole month early, should be president for life.

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  4. I've missed something like the last 4 of the annual block parties. My neighbors think we have horrible luck in scheduling . . . little do they know that I'm particularly adept at planning when I'll be out of town to match the same weekend every year, specifically to avoid the party :)

    And now that my kids are past the spit-up age, it's been a VERY long time since I've stepped in someone else's vomit.


Every time you comment, I get a lady boner.