So, I’m taking an idea from my friend Autumn’s blog — not long ago, she listed things that make no sense to her.  These are things that are keeping me up at night.

1.  There is a fucking WOLF that is hanging around by my apartment.  Please note that I live directly under (remember the billboards) the 294 expressway and nowhere near any sort of wildlife preserve.  Where did it come from?  How did it cross the expressway when I can hardly pull out of my driveway without getting killed?

2.  I tried to go shopping today for my sister’s birthday party tomorrow.  Why are we bringing back: stirrup pants (worn with open toed heels on the size negative 7 mannequin) spandex tights with lace on the bottom (perhaps it will take away from the fact that I’m wearing SPANDEX) and giant shirts  pulled to the side?  I could not pull it off as a thirteen year old with braces, glasses, bad skin, and an incredibly bad perm who played the tuba (oh, yes.  My awkward stage lasted about six years, according to my sister, who never went through one) and there is NO WAY my almost 30 year old fat ass (albeit with clear skin and contact lenses) can pull it off now.

3. Also on the shopping front, I do not believe, in my heart of hearts, that plaid, striped, pink and green shorts look that good on anyone.  FYI, if you’re a pear shape (as I am, albeit an overgrown one) shorts that stop right above your knees, thus cutting you just below the widest part of your body, make you look like a Weeble Wobble.  And you know me.  I will fall down.

4.  My Palestinian neighbor who has taken to standing on his balcony and watching me read my book, trying to relax on my patio, under the guise of his 3 1/2 year old son wanting to say hi.  There is something very disconcerting about this.

5.  My drunk neighbor who slept through her kids coming home from school AGAIN, thus forcing her five year old to stand in the parking lot, looking in my bedroom window and holding onto the bars on the windows (oh yes, my neighborhood is that awesome) while I was dusting in there and screaming my name so loud I almost had to call 911.

6.  How it can possibly take 17 minutes to procure me a large diet coke from Burger King.

7.  How two people who live hand to mouth in an apartment with bars on the windows under the expressway can possibly owe the IRS almost five hundred dollars.

8.  Why I thought I was Wonder Woman and insisted that I was fine breaking up my parent’s old wood floor with some sort of shovel type tool, resulting in a trip to the ER, then a trip to the Urgent Care center cause the ER sucks, and a strained bicep muscle, leaving my left arm useless for three days.  Please note here that I was told, “We just need you to help us move some things,”  which was apparently code for, ”Removing the entire downstairs of our house.”  And Bob?  If you’re reading this?  Now that you’re going to be in the family, you are absolutely involved in all of these projects; I don’t care if Carly has to work

On the bright side, I am REALLY GOOD at tearing shit up.

On a happy note, I have taken to wearing my iPod at Wal-Mart and have thus avoided any scary big ladies and fights.