Run for your life, fucker.

Someone stole my gym shoes from just outside my apartment door. Yesterday morning when I got back from the gym, they were wet from the downpour, so I took them off before entering my apartment and neatly placed them on the rag rug (my own, not shared with anyone else), side by side with the toes pointing in to indicate that, yes, they belonged here in this apartment. But now? Nowhere to be found. And no, I am quite certain they did not run off by themselves.
Who would DO such a thing? I mean, I know this is New York City ‘n’ all, but I live in an old five-story townhouse that houses only six or seven apartments, two of which are occupied by the landlord and his adult daughter and her husband and toddler, and the few other tenants I have seen all look about as mild-mannered as small pink cartons of skim milk. I can only guess that the fucker who did it has never seen me in another representative of my shoe collection because the heels on most of its members (see Exhibit A) can and will do more damage to his or her nasty thieving face than pounding out a marathon on it ever could. And if the cretin thinks that, if I learn his or her identity, I won’t be able to chase their ass down Broadway in those heels to administer the damage, they’ve got another thing coming.

0 thoughts on “Run for your life, fucker.

  1. Worse yet! The word “actually.”
    Everyone uses that word indiscriminately.
    I hope I spelled that right, because I have a deaf neighbour shouting in my left ear, on the phone.

  2. Earlier this week, my boss said #2 to me, and then we both simultaneously realized that I wasn’t #1’ing this job very much and would soon make like Jodi’s cell phone and disappear. I’m quitting my job on Monday. I hate the word “quitting.”

  3. Your idea to ban “white on rice”? I’m with you like stink on pigs. As far as “don’t give up your day job”, I agree to banning that as well, if anyone utters that phrase, I’ll tell them they shouldn’t give up their kneepads and peep show booth tokens.
    But if I were Jodi’s cell phone? I’d be plugged into the wall, shoved down the front of her panties, set on vibrate, and using a land-line to speed dial her to a messy, desperate MacGyver-like climax.

  4. i hate it when people say “i don’t know what to tell you.”
    why even bother saying that? if they don’t know what to say, why don’t they sit there with their mouths shut?

  5. Would the Spanish say “Like yellow on rice? Or the Thai “Like purple on rice? Oh well, Six and one half dozen of the other…..

  6. If we ban these phrases, at whom will I direct withering stares of disapproval when they open their mouths?
    Oh wait, I already do that to almost everyone regardless of what they’re saying. Carry on.

  7. How could you leave out “Hot enough for you?” and for frequently stopping elevators, “I guess we’re on a local.”

  8. I hate it when the anonymopus guy is pumping my tender ass from behind, then asks, “Would you like a reach around?” I mean, DUH!

  9. Ha Ha Ha!
    I double posted. I have mercilessly beaten the security measures Jodi has put in place to thwart such faux paz into the ground and cyber-trodden them beneath the well-worn heel of my boot.
    I think I’m aroused.

  10. “Git er done”…ugghh…HATE THAT ONE! I don’t know if you’re subjected to that one up North as I am down here.

  11. “posthaste”
    “pronto” and
    “immediately, if not sooner”
    I think all three of those should be banned YESTERDAY

  12. My suggestion for immediate banning: “wertaver” (see the commenter’s name, below). Especially if it’s supposed to be a fun/witty take on “whatever” (in which case it has not succeeded).

  13. Lolly, Lolly, Lolly, get your adverbs here…
    And while you’re at it, take a large heaping helping of a round of applause. No newbie werdsmith (sic intentional) is gonna come to the author’s page and then heap on the author. It just isn’t cool. Copesetic. Proper. Mannerly.
    In short, don’t fuck with our Jodi, wert. We’re a snide, but exceedingly tight bunch, and I get the feeling you’re rather loose.
    You may take that however you please.
    And Jodi? Sorry I said fuck. Ooops, I said it again. I know how you get when I say it. And this obviously isn’t the way you want me to say ‘fuck’ to illicit a response. Fuck! I said it again. And again. Un-fucking-believeable!

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