Here are some overheads for you:
"He tried to kill me with a hunting knife. And I was six months pregnant."
"You know my cousin Wendy a crackhead. When I was growing up, it was like, you know, don't let Wendy in the house because she'll steal your TV."
"He whacked me in the balls with a bottle of vodka."
Here is my beloved Decatur street, as seen from my favorite $2 Martini Monday seat at Fiorella's Cafe. In the photo you can see my new living room and my balcony and my bedroom. I'm not telling which one in case you're a nut job. Also to be seen is the nightclub next door to my bedroom, but I'm not telling which one that is either in case you're a nut job who knows how to tell what thing is next to what other thing.
*I saw the "very old suave gentleman dressed like a stereotypical pimp from the 1970s using umbrella for cane" man again today! His outfit wasn't as 'stereotypical pimp' as it was yesterday, when he was dressed head-to-toe in a maroon coattail suit complete a long thigh-length brocade vest and a feather in his cap. Also today the cane was an actual cane (not an umbrella), but you get the point...I guess I took this photo to prove I wasn't making it up:
|I love this guy!|