Grouchy Smurf

Tonight I hate New York. I hate whiny nieghbors with their screaming kids. I hate leering doormen and security guards. I hate the infinite exercise in torturous tedium that passes itself off as my job. I hate Times Square with its tourists walking slowly four abreast. I hate the crappy grocery stores with their half-dead produce and illiterate cashiers and stockers who don't know the meaning of customer service, let alone how and when to employ the phrase, "excuse me." I hate my ass of an associate who tried to blame his utter incompetence on me this afternoon when he forgot to include labels on a chart. I hate loud people on the subway. I hate whoever knocked on my door and left a nasty note this evening while I was singing in the shower. I have to suck up all the noise in this godforsaken apartment building -- your kids, all the running and jumping around, the drummer upstairs, the screaming boys on four, all of the yippy dogs, and the car alarms that go off at 3am. The least you can do is grin and bear it while I finish rehearsing what I have to audition with tomorrow evening. It's called New York. If you can't take it, move to Purchase.