Soak 'Em For Crutchie!!

Though this might come as a shock to some, I do stuff. I pretty much have a job. Not your typical 9-5, have to use your brain, get dressed out of your p-jams every day job. But one I do out of the goodness of my heart-but get meagerly compensated. I'm talkin' if this were my sole source of income I wouldn't even be able to survive on Mac' and Cheese-on sale even!! Needless to say it's not the BEST use of my time nor is it my ideal dream of a Knight in Shining Armour come true of what I would like to be doing at this point in time of my life. Some people just need help sometimes, and apparently my emotionally stagnant, cold-numb heart roused its wrinkled little tuchis out of hibernation to do a few good deeds. 4 months-ish of them to be exact. Oy Vey!

You could say every day life is a movie. I should sue for the movie rights. If not, then you should say it, and get someone to buy movie rights to it so I can live out my dream: some fabulous old schlimazel of a yenta with nothing better to do than yell at schlemiels in Yiddish, nosh my bagel and schmeer, and play cribbage. But in reality, my dreams are bupkis, because for the fragile time being I am Newspaper Delivery Professional. Thanks Mommala. I always knew this little bubelah would make you proud....oh..I'm getting a little verklempt!

I have a few words to say to the general public about this profession. Be it known to all of you who park on the street in front of paper recepticles (the newspaper boxes, keep up now) it's not my fault if you come up one side mirror of window short next time you come out to crank up your Miata. Furthermore, yes. I am a lazy mamzer, and I don't get paid to schlep your paper all the way to the door. I'm not the only one who could use the exercise a 10 foot walk to the edge of your driveway intails!!

I had a little run in yesterday with my rogue rival-the infamous Wenatchee World Lady. Like I said, my life is a movie: Newsies. The Newsies rivalring each other for papes sales. I get harassed almost daily by other paper district peddlers. It's like Cowboy Jack Kelly vs. Spot Conlon. Brooklyn Newsies vs. Queens Newsies. Me vs. The W.W. I tenderly refer to that schmendrick as We-snatch-ee World lady. Not only does she suposedly "rule the road" in her oh-so-classy periwinkle PT Cruiser, she makes her daughter get out schlep the papes!! Well cruise this you ole bag!! I'm gonna run over your paper boxes!!! No federal offense for me!!!

Which brings me to my next felony...I've got a beef with a Mail Lady as well. Suspected-by me-to also be a MALE Lady. She boxed me in yesterday, when I was trying to leave my coveted primo parking spot in front of a row of mailboxes and gave me attitude. The chutzpah!!! She doesn't know who she fooled with. I should've unleashed my unlucky beastie on her!! I should have never stopped pulling forward. I should have gunned it and made her brassy braided, too tan, cut off sleeve wearing self sorry she had every crossed my path, given her a lethal dose of McPain and Ba-Rocked her face right the eff off!!! Ragin' Cajun? Gruesome Twosome? Try Perp(etrator) with a Pape on for size, oh wait...my size 8's are too small for your mammoth sized dude-hooves!!!!

Put on a sweater, the paper business is a fierce and cold war kidlets.


Looks like it's borchst wishes and bupkis dreams. Mozel Tov to me!!