Sunday, November 14, 2010


Busybody old ladies make me mad. I had a little encounter with one, today. My dog took a dump next to a tree, and she yelled, "Get a puppy bag! Get a puppy bag and clean up after your dog! Don't mess up our neighborhood!" Then I assured her that I would clean it up, and she ignored me. What a moron. I wanted to chuck the poop bag at her head, so that it would slap against her wrinkly face, shaming her in front of others.

Curmudgeonly old men are kind of funny, but busybody old ladies have no redeeming qualities. There's nothing worse than an old lady that gives you the hairy eyeball, because she disapproves of what you are doing. Oh man, that really gets me going.

A poem about that old lady:

Hi old lady from earlier today.
You're an idiot.
My girlfriend is in the store right now,
getting a bag for my dog's poop.
So you don't need to call me out, in public,
and wrongly accuse me of dogshit delinquency.
Now go home and choke down some oatmeal,
you confused, creaky antique.
Nice outfit.

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