Expletives

Stop reading now if you are the sensitive type who does not like to read swear words.

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Dear Eavestrough Guy,

Fuck you. I've been fucking calling you for 5 fucking months now. The fucking eavestroughs don't actually collect water. That's what they're supposed to do, right? Collect water and funnel them into particular places? The downspout on the second storey of the house is supposed to feed into the trough on the roof of the first storey, right? I mean, none of the rainwater should really be spilling out over the ledge and onto the driveway. It's noisy. Rainwater spills off the back of the house and onto the porch, passing between the roof and the trough. I'm thinking that's not quite right. If I wanted noisy eaves that don't work as they should, I'd have fucking saved my money and kept the old ones.

When I called on the 4th, you said you'd be by bright and early Monday morning. When I called you Monday afternoon, you said "Aw shit, I'll be there before the end of the day." When I called you this morning, you had the nerve to sound irritated. You've been busy for months, you said. You said you'd come by on your way downtown so you wouldn't forget again. I was home all day. Did I miss you? I'll be calling tomorrow and the next day and the next, you lazy fucking bastard, so get used to hearing the sound of my patient voice politely asking you when I can expect you.

Don't think I haven't been documenting this, either. I have a log of every call I ever made and what you said. I have video of the leaks. I have all the papers you ever gave us. If I decide to sue you, I will have you by the balls. The only thing saving you is that it's a damned hassle. Get your fucking fat ass the hell over here and do the damned work like you said you would when I called you the first time on August 29, 2006.

In conclusion, fuck you.

Yours,

Bitchy Homeowner


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Dear Loser Hockey Kids,

Thanks for breaking my porch light again. It was my intent to spend $200 a year on lighting fixtures because you have no idea what self-control is. If I had any proof, you would be buying them and installing them for me. Don't worry, I would make sure the power was off. Really.

The plastic lighting fixtures probably broke pretty easily, but it would have taken quite a lot of effort to break these metal ones we bought to replace them. We honestly thought they'd stand up to the eternal hockey game. Guess not. So fuck you, you stupid shits. It doesn't matter how hard or fast you can hit a slapshot if you can't fucking aim it at the goal. If you're too stupid to know this, you're too stupid to play hockey. Too stupid. To play hockey. Think about that.

In conclusion, fuck you.

Sincerely,

Bitchy Woman Across the Street