Thursday, July 14
Eight o'clock in the morning. I'm laying flat on my back snoozing like a fucking five hundred pound grizzly bear who just fucked a polar bear, from having gone to bed at two o'clock previously that same morning. And then this obnoxious bird or stork or crane or Dashboard Confessional member or whatever the fuck was in the tree outside of my window started making the most corruptive and most excruciating mating call ever. WAACK WAACK WAH! WAACK WAACK WAH! WAACK WAACK WAH! WAACK WAH! WAACK WAACK WAH! WAACK WAACK WAH! It was so fucking loud that Axl Rose would've been put to shame. Trust me you fucking bird, I don't want to mate with you.

Usually if my parents are embarassingly singing vietnamese karaoke in the basement with their golden microphones and LCD player, making the upstairs floor vibrate, I would just put it in the back of my head and keep on slumbering. But this bird had NO mercy. This fucking piece of pillow stuffing was horny times a thousand. I guess it watches Rescue Me too. It's bird calling was so amazingly loud and piercing through my head like a jackhammer being controlled by Robin Williams that I had to get up and slam down the layer of my window that covered the screening. It still didn't muffle out the bird nor did it scare it away nor did it make it pause for a fraction of a second. Then I had to get up again and shut the actual framed and painted part of my window that everybody is more familiar with. With its wood and insulation as opposed to the other part's thin metallic material, it did its assigned job well.

Ten o'clock in the morning yesterday. Same style of laying down on my bed knocked out like Carson Kressley who just got in a fight with Mr. T. Window is wide open just like today. All the beautiful silence of the morning sunshine is broken by the fucking neighbor sawing wood for his fucking wood-burning stove. Wood-burning stove? What the fuck is with this guy? He uses a wood-burning stove so he could sit in front of it with its door open so he could jerk off in its hearty warmth? Come on, put your fucking dick aside and allow others to actually rest their genitals, okay shithead? Jesus. Every morning. Every fucking morning. I didn't hear it this morning because my window was shut thanks to Horny Bird out there. But other times he uses this extreme Terminator saw so I could still hear it loud and clear even with all windows shut tighter than my twat whenever I see that ugly piece of Axl Rose fecal matter.

I'm even afraid to bring the laundry inside from the backyard nowadays. Because on the other side of our house are the most annoying people. And yes, I frown when getting the laundry just like I do when I get the mail. Who knows when some apple dimpley-cheeked person is going to pop out of their window like a whack-a-mole and force me to say fucking hello for another twenty minutes. They don't care if bugs are crawling all over my legs or mosquitoes are sucking me harder than I would Denis Leary or if I'm holding a giant bundle of clothes that have the potential to send moths flocking at me. No, they start talking about other neighbors who I don't give a Chippendale's ass about. I'm sixteen years old and I don't grow flowers and gossip about other old people and middle-aged losers having babies. I stay in my house and jerk off except for when my mom calls me to do some work. Thank you very much for reading.


Christina N. @ 7:32 PM