SUMMER RANT.

I’ll admit it. The heat really, really gets to me and puts me in a mood most foul. Cranky is being nice. Some crank:

Magazine Subscription Cards.
Why on God’s Green Earth does each and every magazine have to put so many of those pesky little subscription cards in their magazines? In the past week alone, I’ve collected 37. THIRTY-SEVEN. So I’m being really good & evil and mailing them back … blank. Do these people not get it? They need to plug-in big time.

Cell Yell.
Stop it. Just please stop it. Why do I need to hear about your business in the elevator, on the street, in the grocery store, ANYWHERE? And quite frankly, it’s not that interesting … just annoying as hell. And have you noticed that these people move slower when they’re on their cells? … just meandering along like they’re the only people on the planet. Public places do not equal private spaces. Don’t even get me started on texting, which also sends me into orbit.

Current Solution to Cell Yell.
I have actually asked this question of a cell-yeller: “Why are you screaming?” Yeah, I got a dirty look, but it didn’t match the one I gave. So, hah!

Cocktails.
What makes a cocktail cost $15? I’d like to know. There’s no such thing as a cheap buzz anymore. And when the Cell Yell People drive you to drink, you really need a cheap buzz; you know what I’m saying?

Stores with Summer Hours.
Like I’m a mind reader.

Bad A/C.
Yes, it’s a thousand degrees outside. Turn the damn thing on. Blast me with frigid air. I can take it, I really can. It will get rid of my evil twin.

I am thisclose to melting.

xxooxxox,
Bobbie.