Thursday, July 14, 2005


Help. My neighbor is a skank.

Apparently, I am supposed to be nice to her because she works for a security company, which is good for our building, but I beg to differ. I think our building needs security to protect us from her and her questionable booty.

Also, we need to tent the joint, like we were going to spray for termites? Except with Lysol instead of RAID.

I had to wait for some baggy-pants thug reject to get off the landing in front of my door for 5 whole minutes last night, because there is not room up there for two people, let alone two people and a bike.

He was calling her on his cell phone, begging to be let in. By the way, folks, it was 11:52 pee-em. And he smelled worse than the homeless guy did.

When she finally let him in so I could get up to my own damn apartment, the hallway was permeated with the smell of cigarettes and stale balls.

I can only hope she made Sir Dingleberry Stanksalot take a shower.

When she puts her blue sex light on, that's when I know the hallway is going to reek in the morning. If I'm not hearing her loud ass bitching some guy out while she clomp, clomp, clomps all around her apartment, running her mouth non-stop on her cell phone, then she's washing Dirty Balls' XL saggy-assed boxer shorts in the sink and hanging them out to dry in front of my (MY!) damn kitchen window. Thanks, Smegg McMuffin. I enjoy looking at nasty unknown men's skidmarks while I wash my dishes. And no, her green plastic lawn chairs and Kokopelli windchimes do not make up for the sacks of garbage she also keeps out there for my viewing pleasure.

Nasty-assed, loud, dirty nit-headed cuntbaghosebeast.

I hope she gags on her own hairy asshole odor and falls down the stairs.


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