Douchebags

Call it a talent, maybe a curse...but I can spot a douchebag from a mile away. I was walking my down the street today with my kid, and we passed this guy walking with a laughable strut that belied his ponderous nature. He's chugging away on a bottle of fruit juice, tipping his head back to get every last drop of it's sugary goodness. His man-boobs strained against the wafer-thin cotton of his white novelty t-shirt as he clutched a pack of smokes in his hand...heading home with his bounty of nicotine. I turned as he walked past, as I had a suspicion that this guy was a class act, and sure enough as he polished off his bottle of juice, he simply tossed it onto the grass and kept on walking.

This is the same type of character as the creeps that live two doors down, with their 3 Rottweilers, who track back from the grocery store with the cart and leave it parked in front of their house, only to later move it to the parking lot for someone else to deal with. Cripes. Seriously, take a few minutes out from yelling at your wife and delinquent kid to spend the $10 to get a little grocery cart. You may not own your house or care about the value of the property, but I own mine, and your southern-culture-on-the-skids lifestyle is bringing me down.

Where did the summer go?

Cripes...tomorrow is the first day of school. It was the summer that wasn't, really.