Oh The Douchebaggery

Roses are Red
Violets are blue
You suck

What can I say? I have a gift for words.

So, it's Saturday night and I am just chilling at home.
Around six I start hearing some truly terrible NuRock ala Limp Bizkit/Evenescence, you get the picture...It was like Spencer's gifts up in my backyard.
So I take my dog Sheena (shout outs to Sheen LaQuifah---world's best schnauzer) outside to investigate.
There are two tools hanging out in the garage that abuts my driveway just pumping the cacophony.
I figure, hey, it's six p.m., let 'em have their jollies. Even if it's totally offending my ears.

10 p.m. rolls around and the music just keeps getting louder. And these shitheads have now introduced strobe lights into the mix.

Now I am all for a party. If I had it my way, partying would be a profession and I'd have a 168 hour work week.

But the driveway is shared property. Did I get a phone call regarding potential festivities? Um, no.

And this wasn't some civilized wine and cheese mixer where guests strolled about in cardigans and khakis musing about lawn care and the Nasdaq. This was a straight-up Animal House style rager!

Here's where I get ageist, but I am assuming these assholes are all young idiots who still believe the world is their oyster. Guess what? I share that fucking oyster with you and I hate your crappy music and your crappy friends. DIE!

So of course this is all going down precisely the same night my sister decides to spend the night at my casa with her three year old twins and four month old infant. I just love your humanitarianism, fuckwads! Seriously, your new nickname is Mother Theresa.

What was that? Did your doorbell just ring?

Special Delivery!

One flaming bag of Schnauzer shit to show my appreciation!