Spying On Cars Containing McDonald's Bags

Late Saturday afternoon I found myself staring down a top I had forgotten was even still in my possession.  The day had not gone well.  The landlord - from here on out to be referred to as Mr. Inconsiderate Use of the Wet Saw at 7am - had used some of his favorite passive aggressive behavior on me that blew up in his face, but later really got to me seeing as I've been a great tenant for over 5 years and am now being totally disrespected due to his own poor decisions (tmi? perhaps but it's my blog and i need to vent).  I was upset, down in the dumps and needed to get out of the house.  Of course I was in no mood for a sweater so be damned if I was putting one on.  Instead I went rooting through my closet and came face to face with the former fave:  a Banana Republic silk scarf blouse.

This blouse has bailed me out of more situations than I care to count.  Treacherous situations.  Situations where I otherwise would have needed a suit.  It has stolen the show at corporate meetings and dazzled mid-day diners at the Four Seasons Beverly Hills - even Larry Flynt gave me a whistle from his wheelchair once when I walked on by wearing it.  Hollar ya old perv!

Usually I wear it with a flowy wideleg pant and some strappy heels, but not on Saturday.  No on Saturday I opted for skinny denim, Loubs, a pile of bangles, my AWang Coco, and the top.  It was a day when I needed to be reminded that I'm in control of my life, that this bloody apartment and this poorly behaved landlord are not the boss of me, and that I will jump in a flower bed for a quick outfit post if required.   Even if it means waiting for 15 minutes to get to my destination while a misguided parallel parker smashes into the cars in front of and behind him 7x all while his McDonald's bag rides shotgun in the passenger seat.  What?  I'm shredding - I can sense hot fast food within a 50 foot radius.

This is the look of a woman who almost tips over as her red soles dig into the flower bed.

Red soles that rarely see the light of day due to this little thing we call "budget".

Coco and Christian moments before I hopped the ledge to strike a pose

while high school girls looked on in confusion.  

'Blame it on the landlord!!,' I screamed wildly into the evening breeze...
'You can't live at home forever!" (wah)

The top.  

And finally the car that hit every car in sight while parallel parking.
Examine, if you will, Exhibit A on the passenger seat:  McDonald's bag.
Food still in it.  Temptation comes in many forms, friends.

Well, it is T-minus 6 hours and counting until the wet saw goes off at an unthinkable hour for the third day in a row.   I've gotta go dart off into bed and get some shut eye.  Please send all thoughts, prayers and positivity my way...may it all be over tomorrow.  May Craigslist have the answer, may the landlord pack up and leave it all behind, may I get more than three sentences out on the telephone before the person on the other end of the line asks if I'm calling from a meat cutting factory...