12.5 days

You know you live in hell when you can hear — over the pounding and screaming upstairs — the bitch’s dog across the lake. You know, the bitch who chased you with her un-leashed mongrels and spat at you how FRIENDLY they are.

The homely bitch and her fat friend sit on a bench that looks right at my balcony. Diiiiieeeeeee.

So a typical day now is that all six of their dogs (are they multiplying?) bark constantly and chase other people’s animals that ARE on leashes as they walked by. And yes I can hear it.

The fat bitch wears a black baseball cap with “NRA” on it. So, great, she’s a member of the NRA or, as I call it, the anti-MENSA.

Bet those assholes will vote for Marco Rubio too. Or maybe one will cancel out the other’s vote with a Ted Cruz nod.

Either way, I was surrounded by mean bullies in high school and thought those days were done. Not so much.

I’m beginning to think it’s time to talk to my boss about letting me move to the Gulf Coast. Or to the Amalfi Coast. (Much better idea.) I’m failing to find intelligent life on the Treasure Coast and frankly I’m tired of trying.

Till then, the cat and I are praying the fuqrs upstairs pack their noisy fucking kids in a box and forget to poke air holes in it. Pack up, bitches.

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