Dear Johns

This morning I found myself at a well-known, national chain coffee shop that we all really love or really hate. I don't particularly like to go there- I believe in supporting local businesses. But today I woke up and discovered that I was completely unprepared for the morning, like it came as a total surprise to me. No coffee, no creamer, not even a slice of bread left. Who lives this way? I'm not in college anymore. I have a job. I have patio furniture. But apparently, I have marginal adult living skills. Clearly, I was going out for coffee.

In my neighborhood, the businesses are limited to a CVS, a Texaco, 12 carnicerias, a liquor store and one national chain coffee shop. This is not my fault. Will someone come down here and build some cool shit, please? (Besides a liquor store?) So I went to the coffee shop, and hoped no one I knew would see me there, even though I looked amazing as usual.

The place is undergoing a renovation. It looks like they're about 75% done with making themselves look like expensive New York City, which is hysterical and unsettling here in south 78745. Did they not read my account of the thong underwear problem? I drank my coffee and read for a while, then got up to use the bathroom, and this is what I saw when I opened the door:

Ahem. Cough. Um. Excuse me?  This is, I repeat, post renovation. (Is this how they do it in New York City?) It seems like it'd make for some horribly uncomfortable situations. "Hey- my leg is almost touching yours. Pass the TP?"

Someone knocked on the door while I was in there. And though I obviously should have let them in, I just couldn't. I'm going to the grocery store right now.

Treasure Hunt

I live in an interesting neighborhood. And when I say interesting I mean it's like there's some sort of  cultural experiment happening daily. Equal parts old homeowners who don't wear enough clothing while watering their gorgeous front yards to excess, mixed with new homeowners with their Obama bumper stickers and plastic baby toys cluttering their front yards, and topped off with a bunch of renters who seemingly don't care about anything, and like to throw shit in my front yard as they drive/walk by.

There's a Texaco at the end of my street ( kind of a red flag to look for when purchasing real estate, but I was blinded by the number of porches my house has. Really- I have to decide which one to sit on and drink Busch Light tall boys. Add this to my Excellent Problems to Have list), and they've also just added a taco truck. Beer AND tacos at the end of my street? Imagine the traffic!

I like to play a game I call "Treasure Hunt." That's where I go out into my yard on Sunday mornings and look for new stuff. The following is a list of items I've found in my front yard:

Jagermeister bottle (empty)
Tampon (old)
Rear-view mirror (driver's side)
Thong underwear (TREASURE!)

The Jager bottle I understand. The other things, I'm a little confused about. Do people drive by and decide the house with the red mailbox=trashcan? Do the ladies drive by and become so sexually aroused by my awesomeness that they fling their underclothes/tampons into my yard?

This morning the only thing I found was half a bird shell.  Looks like even the birds are like, "Fuck it, just throw it into Holly"s yard."

I'm going to get a taco.