I was sitting on my couch, relaxing, after a kind of stressful Saturday with the b/f and his mom and some other claustrophobic shit (b/f has his funny ways of distracting me in elevators and in crowds).
Anyway, here I'm just watching chick flicks. Got the rest of the weekend to myself. LOVING it. All of a sudden, POP-POP-POP!!!!! TWICE! DOWN! DOWN! DOWN! I pulled my dog off the couch and we hit the floor like crumbs from the bottom of a bucket of KFC.
What the fuck, is this a DRIVE-BY??? In MY neighborhood? This is supposed to be the HIGH end of town, YO!
Neighbors came out their doors, my dog went OFF, running around like a five-year-old on a chocolate milk binge, and I smelled smoke.
Then...nothing. Either there was a murder-suicide nearby, or someone really needs a tune-up. OR, I've just developed a fear of firecrackers. GREAT. ANOTHER phobia to confront. FUCK.
I didn't hear any sirens, so I went back to my kleenex-fest. Thank GOD I don't have the dreaded chickflickaphobia...nor do I have the fear of the "F" word.
FUCK I hate shit like that. And I can't wait to get the hell out of this place.