Cranky Ol' Jess

I think I'll begin starting these kinds of posts with "Jess is a Cranky Old Lady."

Jess is a Cranky Old Lady #6
I recently went to Utah for a Thanksgiving bonzanza. We stayed in a Best Western. From what I could hear, there was a family the size of Chuckie Freaking Cheese's in the room next to me, and I was about ready to have an aneurysm. This "DAD", or whoever the loud man was, would let his little kids run up and down the halls in the middle of the night, screaming and slamming doors.

We had the privelege of hearing some poor little girl wail her heart out after she got locked out of her room for about fifteen minutes.

Someone kept slamming their door as hard as they could every five minutes and it would shake the walls.

And by golly, it made me, mild-mannered Jess, get up and poke my head out the door, tyring to catch these elusive retards with The Evil Eye.

Luckily for them, I got bored with that pursuit and went back to watching South Park.

End of Jess Is a Cranky Old Lady #6

But just so y'all know I'm not a child-hating piece of crap, I'd like to inform you of the service project I helped with this week: I went to a kindergarten class and helped kids make sock puppets for a puppet show. The kids gathered around me and hugged my knees. Then I gave every one of them a pastel-colored pony and a handful of candy, and then we all went to McDonald's for a Happy Meal.*



* 25% of this statement is an utter lie