"I am so outta Virginia, baby. I'm never living in the south again—they can just kiss my Puerto Rican ass." At about midnight, Dolores was calling from the road. The movers had picked up her 60 boxes, she had cleaned her apartment personally (likely for the first time if I know my princess) and was headed for the Bronx. Presumably, she got in at about 4 a.m. to sleep on the floor and presumably the movers will show around 10 a.m. I'm going up there to witness the scene. Will file later.
3 comments:
Careful what you say about Virginia and the South, Miss Dolores. We usually can't drag the Yankees out, once they get here.
Maybe the part of the South you didn't like was all the Yankees who have moved there, and are pretending to be Southeners. Like me. Take if from someone who knows: The South's the Real Deal.
Boxes? Dolores is dealing with Boxes? Let the word go out to cellars around the tri-state area: Dolores boxes have a home.
Dangerman
Claudia, I need a little inspiration... I've read your post 'this post', I enjoyed it so I decided to comment. I've been thinking about my blog and how there are all these people posting strange comments there. Maybe you understand, I'm not sure, but it's tiring to read the numbers of comments that don't have much to do with my stuff. My normal new surf board website never suffers this because it just sells new surf board and isn't a blog. Do you have any ideas for how to stop the cluttering of non-relevant comments? Thanks for your great blog. Tips are always welcome...
good day -
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