Avec Fromage

Sometimes my heart feels a bit like swiss cheese.  There are holes where people used to be.  There are holes where dreams used to be.  There are holes where I thought love used to be.  Do these holes ever get filled in again?  Or does your heart just keep getting lacier and honeycombed with the holes that life creates?  And if my heart is Swiss cheese can I fill those holes with cheddar?  I don't even know what that means, it just popped in my head.  Maybe because I don't particularly like Swiss cheese.  I love a good extra sharp cheddar though.  Is that what my heart has become?  A sharp cheddar?   What if I'm lactose intolerant?  What if I can't tolerate what my heart has become?  I suppose I will just come up with yet another metaphor and write about it in my little litterbox corner of the world.





No wait!  I'm crackers!!!!!

Letter to the Lady Who Cut in Line

Dear lady who jumped the line,
Yes, I saw you sneak through.  No, I don't believe you didn't know there was one line for two cashiers.  Why do you think you are more important than everyone else who is waiting their turn?  You are the perfect example of why people who play by the rules, work as a team, do the right thing are the ones who get screwed.  So thank you for that, thank you for taking humanity down one more notch.   Am I overreacting?  Maybe.  Or is this just one more log in the fire of my frustration?  Please, cut in line again...I'm begging you.


sincerely,
The lady with no more patience



beotch!!