You know how, when you’re a kid growing up, you promise yourself that there are certain things you’re never going to be? And then you end up being exactly what you didn’t want to be?I think I’m making the final move towards being what I didn’t want to be. I have become Mrs. Crankypants. Allow me to add a picture of what I’m feeling like lately.
How I'm feeling lately
Add a cat under one arm (or maybe draped around my shoulders or something) and a cigarette in my hand. Then it would be perfect.
Originally, I was considering drawing my own picture of how I was feeling lately. But I started thinking about it on my ride to work and realized two things. One, what I was thinking was exactly like the comic pictured above, Maxine, so two, I didn’t have to put in the effort of trying to draw something identifiable myself. Whatever I came out with would probably look like I made it on an Etch A Sketch anyway.
I used to stay up until 4-6am everyday, and wake up around 11am to go to work, sleeping until about 4pm on weekends. Now I’m lucky if I can keep my eyes open until 10pm on a Friday night. I feel like I’m getting old. And cranky.
I live in the college ghetto where all the bratty college kids live. Oh, did I say bratty? I meant noisy as hell. Every Friday and Saturday night since the weather got nicer. It will be like this until winter.
I’m so tired of it. I’m tired of the screaming in the back of the apartment until 5am. I’m tired of the fires they build in the back of the apartment. (Drunk kids + fire does not equal safe. What it does equal is my apartment or car going up in flames.) I hate finding empty beer bottles everywhere. Chairs and other furniture that they tore apart and then discarded where I have to drive my car.
I swear to god, I feel like I have to do something to save my sanity. The way I see it, I have two options.
I could throw my robe on, put a kerchief on my head, throw a cat under one arm, cigarette in the other hand and grab my cane to go and yell at the little bastards. I don’t like this idea because then the drunk brats would know where I live and probably burn my apartment down.
Or I could take the easy way out and call the cops to get rid of them. (I doubt they are supposed to be burning random furniture and things in the back of the apartment buildings.) And all their fun.
Doesn’t that sound like such an old lady thing to do?
no way! it’s totally not an old lady thing to do. i think it’s hilarious. i used to call the cops regularly on the people who lived below my apt in college. i loved watching them get hauled away for being drunk idiots at 4am on a tuesday. do it!!