Friday, December 17, 2004

Listen, you...

In my world, you just don't do certain things. When you choose to do these certain things, be sure that I am going to judge you (harshly) and assume the worst. Yes, ho-bag, I'm talkin' to you.

There are rules to being a good neighbor, and the divorcee with the slutty daughter who washes her car in string bikinis has just broken some major ones.

DO NOT pull your car over on the street and talk to my husband when he is with our son about your poor plumbing problem and how you now have toxic mold.

DO NOT mention to him about all the workmen that are going to be going in and out of your house, and how he shouldn't worry about it. (This one almost made me snort, WTF? Why should my husband give a shit about workmen going in and out of your damn house?)

DO NOT suddenly stop talking to him when his wife pulls up in her car and roar off in your stupid sports car, not acknowledging her in the least.

What is with these sleaze bag women? Are they so desperate, so lacking in self esteem that they must put feelers out on anything with a penis?

I'm watching you lady, and so far, I don't like what I see.

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