The Volume of My Weekend Glass

I saw the new Harry Potter flick with Yoko on Friday night, but I left my new Ann Taylor loft purchase on the floor of the theater.

A strange man made unsettling comments about my lipstick as I rode the Broad Street Line on Saturday, but I was on my way to a tasty kabob lunch with Melba.

Some unruly underarm hair and nervous indecision forced me to change shirts a half a dozen times, so I was late for my coffee with a new friend; but coffee lead to dinner and some excellent conversation.

On Sunday, another a little hood rat decided to throw rocks at me; but she and her little gang were frightened off by a huge, intimidating, yet neighborly man who got my back.

At last, I stopped putting off housework and scrubbed out the kitchen and bathroom, but my landlady told me she plans to raise my rent.

This guy (let's call him Kangaroo Jackass), who has maybe spoken 3 words to me, had the gall to send me a scolding email for the way I treated his girlfriend (let's call her Batgirl) when I asked her to leave the improv group; but, if there is any justice in the world they will have a terrible breakup because Batgirl is a psycho bitch from hell and he is Kangaroo Jackass.