An Open Letter to the Assholes Infecting My 'Hood of Late

Attention You: You there, living in the 5000 sq. ft. McMansion. Yes, you, the one having the garage sale to raise money for your "sick child". Yeah, you. Maybe you should put a for sale sign on the Escalade in your driveway. No? How about the BMW parked next to it? No, again? Hmmmmmmm, maybe the Audi in the garage then? Not that one either, huh? Maybe you could take the Juicy Couture purse off the arm of said "sick child" and toss it up on Ebay. You could toss in the Rolex dangling from your wrist and all that bling dripping off your trophy wife, too! No? How about you slap a for sale sign on that McMansion then? Ah, no, of course not. Well, then, sad as I might be for your "sick child" in her Apple Bottom jeans and her Baby Phat hoody, I'll have to politely decline the opportunity to buy any of the wares you're peddling. Oh, and I'll take a pass on the store bought cookies and that plastic punch you're selling, too. If I want store bought, I'll waddle up to the corner grocery store and pay for them there, and it certainly won't cost me $2 per cookie, but thanks anyway.

And you: Yes, you with the hell hound you try to pass off as a child. Yeah, you, the one who sits at the back of the karate class and laughs every time your little shit acts out and gets one of the other kids in trouble. Some day, when our kids aren't watching, I'm going to kick your ass. Your kid has obvious developmental delays. He's not just a "boy being a boy." He struggles. He hurts. He needs your fucking attention and intervention on his behalf. He needs you to stop being a mindless whore and to start being his mother. His tantrums are not cute. They're not funny. They're symptomatic of his disorder, whatever it is. My money is on something in the Autism spectrum, despite the fact that you've shared loudly that you don't "believe in Autism." In case you haven't noticed, no one is laughing with you during class. No one. At this point, we're all too sick of you to even laugh at you. Deal. With. Your. Kid.
PS- Buy some pants that fit because an exposed ass crack is never cute. Never.

Dear Geriatric Gigolo, Hi! Remember me? Probably not, but that's ok. I certainly remember you and your Depends ruffle using my machine at the gym as an arm rest while you flapped your gums at the twenty-something child on the machine next to me. Despite not being able to actually USE the machine I was on because of your presence, I have to say you made my day. I have never heard pick up lines like you were throwing down that day, and may never hear any so great again. My favorite is STILL "Baby, I'm so sad I gave up sugar for Lent, because you are SWEEEEEEEEEET!" Your yellow mullet wig, John Deere mesh cap, mom-jeans, and orthopeadic shoes made it all the better. So, thank you GG. You made returning to the gym a real treat! And don't let those young bucks discourage you. A true swinger never gives up!

Dearest Neighbour, Our children play together nearly every day. Nearly every day I feed your children a snack. For us, a snack is a piece of fruit, perhaps half a ham sandwich, or some pretzels. Nearly every day, you feed my child a pile of sugar and fat, which he happily inhales and then bounces home. Your children are pale, stick thin, and sickly. They need real food. They need real food more than once a week. Please feed your damn kids something other than the shit you've been sharing with mine! Thank you. See you at the park!

Attention Shit Head: Yeah, homie. I'm talkin' to you. No one's buying your tough guy act. You live in the 'burbs homie. You drive your mom's car Ese. Orale, huey, you have blonde hair and blue eyes. You'd probably piss yourself for a week if you saw a real Vato. Take off the khaki pants, wife beater, and flannel shirt. Put your mom's seat back up, like she likes it. Turn that radio down. Those stock speakers are just KILLIN' that beat you stole off the net. And for the love of Pete, stop trying to be someone you're not. There's nothing wrong with being a good kid. In fact, it's been known to get people pretty far in life. Acting like an asshole though, that's got a pretty short path leading directly to a life full of suck.
PS- Slow the fuck down or I'll pop your mama's tires and tell her one of your "gang buddies" did it.


Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, that's better!