Public Service Announcement.

Sometimes I seem naive, superficial, filled with sunshine and roses. Listen world, I'm a good girl gone bad. I'm done ignoring the bitches and hoes. Why am I suddenly angry? Today, I went to di per di, the grocery store near my place. I stood in line with my blueberries and wine, waiting to be rung up. The woman behind the register helped the old man in front of me, asking politely if she could give him a hand or if he needed a bag. He declined and then I stepped up. Her face hardened. The fluorescent lighting wasn't kind, I hate to say it, and I saw every crease deepen. She rang up my goods, scoffing at my selection, and told me the amount. I handed her a twenty. Do you have exact change? she asked me. I told her I didn't. I'd like to interrupt myself for a second. Bitch, if I had exact change, wouldn't I have forked it over immediately? I don't like being weighed down with centessimi, I'm trying to get rid of that business. Anyway, she gave me a cold look and threw my goods down the register. She didn't ask if I needed a bag. I know this sounds entirely minor but the women of di per di are evil. They have artificial black hair and wear their striped smocks with contempt. They are unhappy with my presence. I may live in Italy but I am undeserving of their peroni and prosciutto. They curse the day I ever walked in. Well, guess what, bitch maidens of the grocery store! You may give me sassy looks but you also dance in your little plastic seats to my music. That's right. I'm from America, and when you "rap" along with Kanye, you're reppin my shit. I said it. I might be a little white girl but I got some rage.

I'm taking my saucy self to Prague just to recuperate.