Overheard at Dillon's grocery store:

Fragile old woman in leopard print: There's a strangler on the loose?

Policeman in green: Yes ma'am.

I'm sorry, strangler? Really? 


Really? (That second really goes out to Tracy Wilkins)

(What, you can't afford a gun or a knife? You could only spring for the pantyhose or worse, the recyclable Dillon's bag? )

After Jay and I heard this little piece of funny news, we had to walk home with groceries, inevitably dodging corners and power walking between street lights. I could just imagine my piss-poor-luck being some stranglers eventful evening.

"I see a helpless couple with their arms full of milk and pancake mix. It's a two-for-one strangling. Oh, What a night!"

I think strangling is a funny way to murder someone. Doesn't it seem so outdated?

I feel like a middle-aged yuppie for caring because it means, deep down inside, I care about my neighborhood's safety. All those children... This also means that in that same, hidden part of my being--I want to be a mother. GASP. No!



Carry on!