Pissy Neighborhood Notes
If you let your great big Chow-looking dog run through my back yard and piss all over my kids' swingset and toys one more time, that fucking mutt is going to have a one-way ticket to the pokey. I won't tell you, because I don't know who the hell you are. However, as I do not own a dog, I feel entitled to a dog-piss-free back yard.
If you don't want to pony up for your part of the falling-down fence that separates our backyards, don't tell me that you can't do it because you're broke. Surely, everyone's circumstances are unique, but you live in a honking big brand new house, send your kids to private school, have a membership in the local country club (verified by my cousin who works there), and your wife is driving a high-end SUV so new it doesn't even have license plates. And don't you even dare assume that we can foot the whole bill because Leelo has "all those nannies." How about if you instead say that now is not a good time for you, or maybe you can just bite me, you fuckwad. Asshole.
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