lil manitoba shitheads!!!! LIVIN IT UP.
Suddenly reality hits me on my hollow head and I realize that I am in the car, and I must come back to consciousness and not let these sirens lure me into their wicked world. Yea right... As if I could... I'd at least need a THUG LIFE tattoo first.... Finally they are torn apart by some spazzed out family member or friend and I am able to drive a little closer to my destination. I can't help but think... someone's about to get served and I'm very effing glad it was not me in that case. I must park this bitch before getting pulled over for the ten gazillionth time for, again, being born with little melanin in my skin. And yes, I do understand the irony of being pulled over for being white, but in my hood, the po po's either wanna protect the precious white cheese dicks or throw them in jail for a few days for scoring a rock. Apparently our busted asses have no reason whatsoever to go further south than 35th street unless we are in dire need of a cocaine/baking soda combo. The 5-0 knows this and keeps the hood in check... even if this means harassing me and being busted ass fartsniffers by pulling me over once a week and nearly giving me an effing heart attack. I'm not one of the cheesedicks with the rocks, but I'm not exactly Mother Theresa, and as EAZY E said it FUCK THE POLICE.
Car is parked... Thank effing Christ. I sit for a moment, take a deep breath, and reflect on how lucky i am that I did not get pulled over by some busted ass monkey and that my car made it somewhere and back without overheating or the hood flying up and causing me to hit some queef riding their bike like a moron. The ladies spazzing out in the middle of my street are quite a common occourance. When one drives down 50th street by where I live, they must remember to drive very very slow as child, dog, hooker, bootleg movie dealer, window washer, drunk man, or pervert may fly out into the street in from of the car at any time. The driver must be ever vigilant and act like each meter that is driven is a triumph. Then there are the people in my neighborhood that just stand in the middle of the street and stare with the severity like they're staring at one onf those gay magic eye things... What can you do? There are far too many reasons for a person to stand in the middle of the street to address each of them. If they are moving a lot and look strung out or nuts you can hope that perhaps they will move a bit more as to allow you through. If they are fighting, as I described earlier, that can be a dicey situation. They are already angry, you do NOT want to upset them. Usually you just have to wait to be lucky. I got lucky. Don't let yourself be the one who gets served.
You mostly have to watch out for one thing that is so shitty, once encountered, there is not defense... The teenagers. There is no way to combat them. There is no talking to them. One must just allow them to be. They are ALL such stinking pieces of shit that they still have steam coming off of them. I have to forget that teenagers are human because it just baffles me, and I am not just talking about the ones in my neighborhood here, I am talking about all of the buttqueefs age 13-19. FUCK YOU. I hated high school. I hate that you exist... Unless you shoot up your school... then it's ok. These dipshits think that they have a FUCK YOU card that gives them carte blanche to do whatever they want, and make fun of the fact that my ass crack is hanging out, or that my car is disgusting, or that I look like I just tumbled out of bed (which I probably did), or they can just laugh and spazz out and holler at you, and you can't do shit. You just have to remember that these beautiful creatures are all a bunch of ugly butttqueefs and endure the insults until they get tired of making fun of you and let you pass. You must endure the PTSD of your former high school years if you were unpopular like myself and just grin and bear it... Use whatever defence mechanism you can... You're out on the streets now baby... and these teenagers take NO prisoners. Oh and anohter thing... the teenagers have a whole other language that i don't believe is even remotely related to the amount of melanin in their skin. They are always yelling... ALWAYS... and it never makes sense... So to try to retort with a witty remark is next to impossible when you're dealing with these types. Just because they got shot out of mommy's vag like ten years before me, they can do ANYTHING their fartsniffing asses desire.
I digress. I am now exiting my car and I proceed to the big metal gate that is in front of the building of Little Manitoba. This walk is usually a brisk one as I try not to get approached by anyone, usually people asking for money or cigarettes. I also don't want people seeing what car I get out of or they could potentially wash my windows and I would then have to give them money, no matter how much I protested during the act of washing. As a sidenote, I have always thought it rude when driving to put on the windshield wipers when someone forcefully washes my windows thinking it might cut or hurt their lovely hands. I am still on the fence about this one. Is that rude? I mean I OBVIOUSLY have a shitbag of a car... It's like, ok man with bucket... why don't you go try the fucking Lexus next to me instead of the dented ass Geo Prism... At least my windshield is always clean. It's not worth the amount I pay in cigarettes, money, and pain. Anyway I get to the gate quickly. I rustle through my bag to find my keys. I can never seem to find them... Quickly... Quickly.... Ok I'm totally spazzing now because I notice I am being approached.
I encounter another staple of urban carnage and this wonderful neighborhood... the bootlegger. Yes, I am guilty and have, in the past, purchaced many bootleg movies. Man sometimes those shits are good... But what this wicked queef must realize is that even though there have been one or two times that they posessed a dvd that is of my liking, it does not mean that i will always and forever love every piece of busted ass low budget dogshit that they decide to vomit onto a disc. Christ. The maj of these movies are COMPLETE SHIT. I am not paying 5 bucks for Zombie Strippers 3 simply because three months ago I purchaced Halloween and now I am pegged as "the girl who likes horror movies". And for those of you that are thinking "whoh that's dumb, I'd totally get Zombie Strippers 3"... I have been in your shoes as well, and have purchaced the weirdo dogshit movies, and unfortunately that's what they are... total dogshit.
"Ah Gotz da harraw moviez ya likez"... I try to keep my head down and ignore it, but I can't... That's too rude. I am now forced to engage in conversation with the disc dealer while I awkwardly fumble with the lock on the gate trying to unlock it as fast as possible. "Zombie Strippers 3... BAM... I DID DAT ONE SPECIALLY FO YOU"... How extremely altruistic of you... i think. and i explain that i do not have any money today. Then they pull out the arsenal. He opens up his backpack and along with a plant, an eight track, some candles still in their wrappers, an empty bottle of mountain dew code red, and a can of chili, he pulls out like twenty cds. WHOH I think... I must stop this as fast as I can... On some certain days when suffering from extreme boredom and when I have just completely given up on myself and my life I might sit through the descriptions and names of twenty bootleg movies, and then listen to all the great deals they have to offer like one for $5, two for $10, but today is not one of those... I would really like to get past this locked gate into my house. I'm about to have another mindfreak!!!
Finally the lock opens. Like Fuckin' woah. I try to say in my most polite voice... OH no no no... you don't have to go through your bag like that. I'm fine. I don't want any dvds... They never take no for an answer. It is like the word "no" has been magically erased from his brain. He just cannot understand when I say it, and gets all doe eyed when it happens..; This is a top notch salesman I am dealing with. He should be working down at the mercantile exchange or something with his sales techniques, but for some reason he is outside my gate. There are three more attempts at a NO. Finally I feebly close the gate in his face... Then he tries to sell me the plant or the can of chili. Chili does sound wicked good right now... but I already told him I had no money. Damn. I say thank you... And he turns around, and walks down the street, swearing to himself. I really don't think he ever misses a sale. The few times I have denied him he just gives me this look like "Are you fucking serious"... What the fuck is wrong with you.... You don't want Girlz in the Hood "76"... Fuck you you busted ass cumrag. But he always comes back. Currently he has accumulated a 26 dollar debt with me by promises of movies and because he has to go back and forth to see his dead grandma at the hospital. He'll pay me back... Someday.
I get in and I try to dodge all of the piles of dogshit that sit right at the front gate. They very from very small and very stinky to large and steaming and smelling like fresh roses. There are three dogs that live here and for some reason they have all made their "territory" outside the front door so when you come in you have to do some kind of two step dance in order to get in... Or youu just walk, and the ground is disgustingly soft. I try to do my two step as best as I can, but one step falls upon soft ground... I sigh and accept it. Maybe I swear too. Yea I'm not going to lie. I totally fucking swear and curse whatever beast created that foul monsterous bloomin onion of waste that I just stepped on to the deepest darkest circle of hell.... This turd is HIDZ. WTF do they feed these beasts to make these ever steaming foul ass wicked turds???
So I dodge most of the doggie shit and the flies fly up to my hairy armpits and I must flap my wings like a bird to get them off... It's a beautiful site. While I am doing this I hear "HEY BLONDIE" and I immediately know who it is... It is my new upstairs neighbor.. He seems to know when I come and go always and never hesitates to say hello and Goodbye... It's very sweet... But today was a very "special" day. It was rather fucking bizarre... It wasn't just a simple HEY BLONDIE... It was accompanied by question after question, like how are you doing, where are you going, where were you, etc... I notice as I am answering these questions, he is gyrating back and forth. Its fucking weird. What could he be doing??? Ok... either he has some kind of tick that I haven't noticed, or he's fucking jacking off while talking to me... THAT'S AMAZING. He totally is. It can't be anything different... Usually I'd be like this is grosser than eating a boca burger with mayo but shit I love when dudes masturbate to me... Especially from a high window and me on the ground... Sort of romantic... LIke Romeo and Juliet. God... Did I mention that I like when people masturbate to me... Yea masturbation... I like that. Take a gander at my beauty and grab your fucking cock... YEA JUST LIKE THAT.... ok.. major tangent. sorry...
That ended up being the highlight of my week. Everytime I thought of it I was like "That was raw as hell... that developmentally disabled man touching himself to me...". Oh yea, backtrack... afterwards I was told that he was developmentally disabled and it turned me on super double. I have finally found my "Leo Decaprio plays Artie in my 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape'" fantasy... and he's not even fat like the other tard that tried to rape me. But now as of late we have not seen him.. It's sad.
I did make it into my house though... With only a little gem of steaming dog doo on my shoe, guilt in my brain, semen on my shoulder, and love in my heart. I am greeted by a cacophony of dogs barking which serenades me each and every time I enter, leave, bring someone down, bring someone up, drop my keys, fall down in my apartment, something falls in my apartment, I walk in my apartment, I shove my significant other into the bathtub out of sheer rage or a need for sex (both have happened) or even when I peacefully lay my head down on my pillow, always. The dogs... rawrawrawrawrawrawraw THE DOGS.... I understand Son of Sam right now. That man was totes (totally) justified in what he did. Dogs are fucking buttqueefs. He got a bad rap... The dogs should have been charged for the murders. I swear the only reason anyone has a dog is if they are a woman, and they fuck it... I have seen it way too many times on the internet to know that that is the only reason people own dogs... The big ones are tops, the little ones are dildos.
The dogs do serve a purpose besides fertilizer, they are there to keep intruders away... I don't actually think this house has EVER been broken into... Pretty impressive considering the fact that some people think that white people have money, which they usually do, and it's amazing that no one has ever tried to get in and get all our extravagant goods. I think the most expensive thing I own right now is that 8 ball of coke sitting on my table and the street value of the pharmaceuticals that I could sell but I don't. Even this computer has all but bit the dust and I never want to take it to Apple to get it fixed because they make me feel horrible. They talk about it like its a child. I walk in and some obnoxious raw piece of mall carnagewith cover up slathered all over her face only to make her acne problem stand out 50 times more. I give her credit for trying... but she does have a better job than me.. or at least a job. And I know she's totally a fucking geek tool so I gotta love her cuz i was one too before I got effing le-lo hot. The fartsniffing monkey will look at it, snort and say it and I quote "your computer suffers from severe abuse". Then she gives me this look as if I just bit a dogs head off... right there in the store. It makes me wonder what kind of mother I would be. Ok that was a major tangent. The point is that there is no point in robbing me and pretty much anyone who lives here.
Back to the dogs. They are a great security measure as I said, and maybe the wonderful canadians who own this beautiful building are doing something right, but in order to even enter the house is worse than breaking out of alcatraz. My keychain resembles that of a janitor because of the sheer amount of locks that I must unlock to get in. Now this would suck normally, but I have been blessed with the mind bending disease of obsessive compulsive disorder. If you don't know what this is, it takes a long ass time to explain, so too bad. All I'll say is that I don't wash my hands a lot and am extremely messy. But locks are a particular tick for me and have always been... I will lock something, unlock it, check it, lock it, check it, unlock it, lock it, check it... etc. It takes me about thirty minutes to get to my fucking front door. I would like to tell the landlords about my ordeal but I feel like a total fucking tool. I fucking live in Fort Knox. Whatevs.
That's my Lil Manitoba.... Love it or Love it. I open the door to my apartment (which only has one lock which usually remains unlocked, unless I get paranoid... then i lock it. i digress. This is where everything becomes my fault. The fact that I must walk thigh deep through totally multiple hurl worthy piles of garbage just to get to something slightly resembling a couch... that is all my busted ass. The 27 thousand bottles of vodka lying around... that's me. The random clippits of pornography from when I tried to make a mandala of vaginas... all me. The cup of gatorade that sits on the windowsill since I moved in... I refuse to move it. It has been there so long it would be almost criminal to dump it out... The deflated bags of capri sun strewn about the space, room temp frozen pizza that is waiting to be my dinner but unfortunately has coffee spilled on it, 6 broken televisions because i decided i was going to build a wall of tvs and then got lazy and failed and don't feel like bringing the tv's down, and really since my bones are jelly... couldn't do it if i wanted to. The bottles of urine scattered about because I do not want to get off of my fat ass to go empty myself in the proper recipticle.... Thank god we don't have earthquakes here or I'd be fucked... but I do get some spillage from time to time. You know... I don't have a job either... I don't have shit to do and I can't even pee in the toilet. What is wrong with me? Oh yea... I forgot. Everything. I get checks from the government for this behavior, why stop? Whatevs.
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