I've been waiting for a news story to break on my front lawn, and finally! some crazy ass nigger (not really) has stepped up to the plate and delivered the big blow of crazy that my building needed.
Ever since my crazy schizophrenic neighbour was deported - which may or may not have had anything to do with my calls to the police, things have been quiet. I miss the mental guy, it's not the same sleeping all the way through the night, without being woken up to someone yodelling out the front of the building about tigers and leprechauns. Quiet Times.
Let's talk garbage shall we. Garbage is Garbage. My garbage is your garbage. Garbage just ends up in the bigger garbage later on, so whatever. You want to put your garbage with my garbage that's fine. You want to go through my garbage and keep my couch cushions prisoner for 2 years. I don't care. So I don't know why someone would get so bent out of shape by us putting one bag of garbage in their bin. It's not like we get billed per bag by the garbage men. Tomorrow is garbage day, surely the garbage man will take care of the problem?? What's the big deal about one more bag??
Why do we have to come home to see our garbage strewn all over the lawn?? Airing out the dirty laundry. I don't need people knowing what we're eating. Those potato peelings are private. And so is my magic ingredient for the worlds best potato bake.
Plus who really has the time to take out the bag of offending garbage and touch my garbage and throw it all over the place?? you so touched my half eaten fish. Gross.