amy vanderbilt, why won't you write from the grave?

i've had quite enough of the morons who insist on using golf umbrellas on the sidewalks. it's all in the name: GOLF umbrella. for playing GOLF. on biiiiiiiiiig GREEN pastures. and whilst it lovely that the concierges of the frou-frou-er hotels actually inflict new york natives with clueless tourists donning such, they should know better.

and why two golf umbrellas would walk side-by-side i'll never know.

so help me, i'm going to start posting pictures of stupid people being stupid. kind of like hot or not, you can all vote. 'yes, tom, she's a fucking moron.' or, 'no, tom, he's just a clueless tourist.' yes, say i, i must get on this.

and while on the subject of morons on sidewalks, why is it people weave and walk slower on cels? yes, brittany, i bumped you on purpose, sort of, because you had a phone that lit up and you were screaming about how fekkai fucked up your appointment while clutching your fake vuitton bowling bag. i was down wind to your 'perfume' for far too long. and YOU were the one weaving. you just wove into me. and i. didn't. apologize.

so there.

i think i am getting an earache and took a pre-emptive ceclor that is waaaaay expired that i keep in my travel bag should i get a random earache in a land that doesn't take united healthcare. (don't judge me.) hope i don't bite: i've got a show and a party to attend tonight. oh it's just not easy being me.