Well, you see... I've been off busy for this past week. Business trips. Horrible things. Don't trust flight attendants either. Those little bags of lightly salted slightly toasted delightfully roasted peanuts... suck. Big time. I'm talking more than Edward Hanna in Mayoral office.
You know what's hard? Going to school, and raising a city. I'll tell you that much. I have to get out, and see all those wonderful folks on the campaign trail for things like Mayor... and who cares what else. Upside I get to see people like this who entirely amuse me and ultimately make my day much brighter than it would have been previously, due to the rays of the Utica sun bouncing off of the forehead of politics. Or Tim Julian. Whatever.
I have noticed one thing. No, not that I'm feeling oddly political today, but that for some reason, people outside the city feel the compulsive urge to comment on issues in my city. Yes. My. Fucking. Everloving. City. I don't get it. I don't. What the hell is wrong with them. How dare they comment on my city. It's perfect as is. Minus the imperfections.
So what if I'm surrounded by people who don't speak my language? It's entertaining when they ask for something and suddenly and miraculously know every word in the Oxford Dictionary. Oxford, because it contains British headword spelling, and everyone loves and embraces British headword spelling.
It's that sort of thing that makes me love me. That you don't know something I do. It's amusing you see. I'm bigger badder better and smarter, all because you're not! It's spectacular!
So in my short but lovely summary of my passing week's events, screw Hanna, screw Julian, go David Roefaro, and finallly, if you don't live in my city, don't comment on issues relation to it. Don't spread your shit if you can't take the smell.