katie's shortcomings

I know you're probably shocked to find out that I have shortcomings. well, wait. see I'm not so sure this particular issue is a shortcoming. though recent events have led me to believe that it very well might be. I've flossed three times today and still, I am no clearer. go figure.



I always leave my keys in the car. not in the ignition, dumb ass. in the glove compartment or on the floor under my seat and I never lock it. I learned this from my father. his car has never been boosted. personally, I think it's smart. I never have to look for my keys. I always know where they are. if someone wants in, there's no need to break a window. simply open the door and knock yaself out. what pisses me off is when some schmuck does decide to bust in and doesn't have the god damned courtesy to shut the door. that's just rude. here I went to all this trouble to leave the car open and you don't have the decency to shut it? that's just dicky. I'm almost positive that the reason my car has never been stolen is because of the shock experienced when they find my keys. they probably think the car is rigged. or maybe jesus is just lookin out for his a-number-one-jewgirl.




wait. I'm getting side-tracked. oh, right. ok. unfortunately this habit has crossed over. for a while, I didn't bother locking my front door. another habit I got from pops. it made my family crazy. after the hock fest, I started locking my door. however, in recent weeks, I keep forgetting to lock it. instead of just walking in, my sister insists on screaming from the stoop I'm here. I say, it's open. she walks in and gives me the face, followed by, hello. crazy people. lock-the-fucking-door. anything to exercise guilt in the schwartz family.



soooo.... this afternoon, I was busy doing what I do. louie was in the living room napping and someone WALKED IN. a stranger just strolled his ass right through my front fucking door. no knock. no ring. no buzz. bupkas. louie jumped up and got into dick, what the fuck you doin in my house, mode, and moron that I am was so shocked, I said, I'm not wearing a bra. (note to self, katie, when strange man enters house, that's a selling point, not a deterrent). I snapped out of that real quick and as he was turning to leave, I said, GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW, OR I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL CUT YOU. (cut you? as if.) he races out of the house, slams the door and knocks. (fucking knocks. the nerve.) so, I stand at the door and say, don't you think you've behaved inappropriately enough for one day? first you break in and now you knock on my door in the hopes of being invited in? it doesn't work that way. that's not how you place a fucking social call! were you raised by a pack of wolves? (I am so my mother's daughter)... he says, I'm the homeless guy from the alley. I didn't recognize him with his head out of the trash bin and all, so through the peep hole I said, you have to go bye-bye now. go. bye.bye.now.



I felt so bad. he seems pleasant enough in that homelessy kind of way. I always give him cash and pray your way out of homelessness christian pamphlets. not that it's helping of course. I felt so guilty about screaming at him today that I gave him twenty bucks when I was dumping louie's shit in a bin. guilt. it's what's for breakfast. oy-



the lesson of the day, LOCK YOUR FUCKIN DOORS, SCHWARTZY. no more absentmindedness for you, missy.



non sequitur of the day: one of my friends mentioned that while dining at the Y of a new betty he bent last night, that her loins smelled like chef boyardee pizza. he said it was so reminiscent of a childhood memory, he couldn't stop noshing and sniffing. after laughing my ass off, I said, I think that's creepy, but I'll let you know when I'm certain.