I hate you, blades of grass which grow taller than my neighbors' blades of perfectly coiffed front yards. Off with your heads! Off with your heads!
Simply Lemonade, I love you and want to have your baby.
Remind me to rant at you about the preposterous absurdity of manicured grass lawns... I have this pet peeve with the continent-spanning and indefinitely ongoing insistence on funneling energy and pesticides into the maitenance of biologically preposterous ecosystems, all to avoid being caught not doing so. Visibly participating in cultural neurosis is not a self justifying activity!
It might not be meatball's favorite idea, but this is a fairly permanent solution.
Actually, it's even more insidious. In my area, if you do not "maintain" your yard and it appears overgrown or unkempt, you will get cited by the local government and the neighborhood association has the right to take legal action against you that can include a lien on your house and ultimately your house being sold from under you.
Well, naturally. You know as soon as you see an unmowed lawn that the residents have poor social values and lack the proper sense of obligation towards other people. They're probably thieves. They might have an entirely different way of going about their lives! It's no better than living near immigrants! You don't want to find yourself raising your children near IMMIGRANTS, do you?!
OH MY GOD! WHAT IF...THEY'RE CANADIANS?!
How would you know? Our solitary source of cultural identity is insisting we aren't american. But for decades now the only justification we've been able to produce for that claim has been health care, and now you lot are finally groping your way out of the stone age... there's nothing left. Soon we'll have to go back to turtlenecks.
(besides, don't you know immigrants are brown?)
OK, I get it. People like quizzes and they like putting the results on their profiles.
I lied. I DON'T get it. I took one once...I just HAD to know which muppet I am. I'm Gonzo. Excellent. Now I know.
Why don't I do more? They are insipidly stupid. I'm not against fun, so if you find them fun, carry on. Scotch tape them all over your profile, but as little as I care what kind of eyes I have or which TV vampire I am, I care EVEN LESS about those things as applied to you.
It is a fairly sure bet that I won't even glimpse them on your profile. I'd rather feed my toes to a syphilitic badger.
What Element is your soul?
Your soul is there but no longer inspired. You go on living without really caring. You have let disapointment damage your heart time after time again, and your soul has sufferd from it. The flame that was once there has shrunk to a dimming candle barely thriving.
Really? REALLY? This is something you want to advertise on a profile that just encouraged me to write messages to you because you're a good person? YOUR SOUL IS DEAD. You have a dead soul, sir. I'm just gonna keep steppin', m'kay?
I went in the VampBox. I don't know what came over me. I need a shower.
I'll get the soap.
Would it help if I just suspended you from going in there again?
Birra, I'd say yes, suspend my privilege, but unfortunately, I know the definition of "privilege." :(
LMAO!! I think a decontamination unit is more in line instead of a shower.
For some reason LKD's comment reminded me of the movie Monsters Inc.... ;)
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