Lullaby of Broadway

Rosie O'Donnell is slowly killing me. She just bought the building across the street from my apartment and every morning at some god awful hour the jack hammers start blasting away at the concrete. It's so loud that I have to move out of my bedroom and finish my beauty sleep on the couch in the living room before I peel myself off the couch and try to head to work with a pounding migraine. My roommate has also given in to sleeping on the other couch in the living room to gain some sense of quiet. I looked over at her this morning and she had two bottles of Corona resting on each eye socket to dull the pain of her throbbing head. Now it's getting ridiculous. We're forced to use beer to take away the pain and it's not even 7 in the morning! This can't go on forever, I tell myself. After all there is only so much concrete in New York City, right? I mean eventually they are going to hit earth and the madness will be over. Dear God, please tell me the madness will soon be over! I want to call the police. I want to report the injustice. But the sign on the building says, "Future Home of Rosie's Broadway Kids, " and I feel like a jerk for even getting mad. Who doesn't like Rosie, Broadway, and Kids. So I lie there sleepless and take it. It's all for a good cause I tell myself. I can support this...for now. Say what you will about Rosie and her infamous feuds...Rosie vs. Hasselback, Rosie vs. Trump...but last time I checked neither of those other folks (including the real estate billionaire himself) bought a building and turned it around to provide a place for kids to do something constructive. So I will lie there with the pillow pressed against my ears and pray for the drilling to stop. But mark my words, the moment I hear any off key songs from the musical "Annie" being performed by screeching ankle biting children who claim to be the future stars of Broadway wafting into my apartment - I will call the police, because you can't murder show tunes like that and expect to get away with it.