<$BlogRSDUrl$>

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

About Time. Finally Massachusetts is catching up once and for all with the culinary demands already to be found on the West Coast. In 1989 hubby and I were horrified our first super market visit to Stop & Shop. Nothing but a pathetic array of wilted ice-berg lettuce. Now within a four-mile radius is to be found a Trader Joe's (the ecclectic supermarket and why-would-you-ever-bake-a-dessert-when-you-can-buy-a-Trader-Joe's-frozen-dessert?). In the summer is to find an organic 'farmer's market' that sets up on the local Middle School soccer field. February 16th there will now be a Whole Foods Market opening nearby. I've a 10$ gift certificate plus another that was inadvertently delivered to me and I am struggling morally as to whether I should give up the second one to its rightful owner. The struggle stems from the fact that I doubt very much this person would shop at this store...

White Trash Sluts...Today in the city of Boston was the Patriot's Dynasty Parade. At every subway stop on Anna Bloviation's way to work piled more and more middle- and high school-aged students cutting school to go see the parade. I have to tell you that Anna Bloviations was utterly appalled by the girls. Chipped black nail polish, hardened faces, fat seeping out at every opportunity (of which there was plenty given their low-slung slutty jeans and too-short t-shirts). This at a mere fourteen.

You're probably thinking: god when did Anna Bloviations turn into such a prude? Heh I'm not at all. If you've got the stuff, by all means strut it! There is nothing wrong with a risque look as long as it's tasteful and on a good body that is confident wearing it. But these girls you can tell feel so shitty about themselves.... This was demonstrated by the fact that at nine o'clock in the morning they were most of them boozing on the train just to take their minds off of their gone-to-pot-at-fourteen bodies. Pathetic really. And not a pretty sight.


Comments: Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?