how does it feel, well. it feels fucking blind.

i yelled something from my window at kathy today. i had to. she was holding a large panel of THAT WHITE LATTICE!!!

i said, "what do you think you're doing with that lattice, kathy?!"

she replied, "i need to put it on my porch so the little one can play!"

i agreed. ok. fair enough, kathy.

i have new neighbors across the way. needless to say, i'm not stoked. so far, i've seen at least five different people coming and going. i still have no idea which of the five live there, but i can tell we're going to have issues because: a) they're all wearing puffy jackets with sports team logos, b) they had 3 "direct tv" brand vans in front of their trailer today installing a HIDEOUS satellite dish in the front yard and c) they give me discerning looks every time i am outside. (granted, i was wrapping silver christmas garland around my mailbox, but still.)

I don't know about you, but anyone that is obsessed with having THAT many television channels to choose from, should probably suck it.

ok, i shouldn't judge. i'm probably part of the "problem" with my facebook account that includes almost 400 "friends", obsession to text messaging, and the love of G-chat i've developed. i do watch lost every week, but it's about all i can handle of commercial watching. technology is going to kill our souls- i get that. i guess i partipate in ways i find beneficial to my fear of intimacy and call it a day. judge if you will..

so... the avenue of the roses.. 82nd ave...

i've noticed there is quite the sex industry happening on my street. i didn't think it was that rampant or fruitful until recently. call me a narcissist, but it took a 66 year old ex-police officer offering me $200 bucks for a night of sex to really realize it! i was wearing a beat up harley davidson hoodie and jeans. i looked like an androgynous amalgimation of that crazy dirtbag chick from the breakfast club and robert smith. somehow, someway- i'm offered money for sex. only on 82nd ave. my god.

everything else seems to be par for the course. i am still blown away by the insanely cheap food available at the gigantic asian market up the road. the dive bar i frequent- "steinhaus"- proves to be most lovely 4 nights a week, depending on whether or not colin the drinkmaster is working. other than the new neighbors, i have very little complaints.

oh wait. i do have one.

ANTS ANTS ANTS

they've invaded my kitchen. omfg. if i so much as spill a drop of juice, sugar, or liquor on my countertop it's all over. it's so bad i've dedicated one of my kitchen towels to wiping up the wreckage after i kill them all with windex multi-purpose solution. i have an "ant towel". i've tried three different kinds of "ant killer" products, and i can't spray raid everywhere because i don't want to poison my cats. it's to the point where i'm screaming out loud at them. i say "you fuckers! you're back! die!!!!". i know it sounds crazy, but i am at my wits end. i'm convinced i'm living on an ant hill, and that they will slowly infiltrate themselves into my home in such a way where i'm eaten alive by them in my sleep. probably paranoia from watching that movie "creepshow" where the guy was eaten alive by cockroaches, but seriously. DIE DIE DIE!!!