Paranoid or Extremely Intuitive?
I thought I was in the clear. I thought I'd have The Cantankerous Canary* opened by now. But no. The City of Philadelphia hates me and wants me out.
Why? Because I'm one of those Sixth Borough-ers whose only intention is to make a nice life for herself in a city that has the potential to become one of the Great Cities of America? I'm here for YOU, Philadelphia. I'm here to help you out and make YOU special. I am proud to be a part of the Great Migration South to newer prospects. WTF?
Why are you doing this to me? WHY? I am slowly watching the interest on my loans tick-tick-tick skyward while you sit on your Phat Cheesesteak-induced ass and laugh as I slide into financial ruin. Gentlemen, I have pennies to my name and a taste for moderately expensive alcohol. This is a serious problem. Can't a city help a wino out? Brotherly love. What a sham.
I swear, Philadelphia, I swear on a stack of Bibles that I will move to Wilmington if this doesn't get straightened out right quick. Wilmington will have me, I'm sure of it. The Cantankerous Canary* will finally put Wilmington on the map. So there.
Whatchya gonna do about that, eh? Bring. It. On.