The rash of child kidnappings on West Fenimore Street.

While this blog was suffering from turbulent pirating, Long Island kids were on the growl. Teeth were gnashed; my yoga wear was deemed obscene and giggled about( I lived alone, I was necessarily odd); my mailbox knocked off its post, the front of the house pelleted with flour and eggs in a retro tribute to holloween the elementary school's play with me cast in turn as either Jason or Carrie before the bloodbath, the front door's screen door kicked until indented by some individual grappling his loins and playing a constant game of I'm not getting off your property, taunts using my name when I had never introduced myself to them. When the police was called, there were false claims made of the fear I had strewn in these high schoolers'pitter patter hearts, while, in my presence alone, there seemed to be an extreme sense of ease at hoping to strike out as glee club hair conditioner worshipping rebels. How they got close enough to know whether I use hair conditioner or not is beyond me, just as arcane the reference is. Be that as it may.All this against the intruder, big notably (necessarily)old bad (necessarily)unkept (necessarily)afraid and lonely me.It was such a safe neighborhood before my temporary access to it.

Time has flown by, incidents forgotten, luckily for them. I've had to erase the entire blog for its altered content and so far so good with the new posts. I've just seen the ? of breakingnewts2 and 3 (the non sequel) and can only wish that along with its July 2007 repetitive consults (beyond me)they may all be in a better place by sometime next year. With adequate help.