You're Barking Up the Wrong Street


"The nosy neighbor is not an urban figure". Yet another letter imported from the burbs. Do. Not. Want. Never seen a more sackless, fickle and twatty bunch than "homeowners".
What the hell is "beauty bark?"
He should just key your car instead.
Why don't you park infront of your own house? You sound like a stupid cunt bitch that needs his/her car tires knifed.
There's a body under there, I just know it.
If IA were from the burbs they'd have a place to park. It's probably a situation like in my neighborhood, where some genius developers decide to build apartment buildings with no parking, thinking this will attract pedestrians and cyclists. It does not. It just means that there is an ongoing parking cold war. I don't even have a car and it's effecting me. Now that we have people parking right up to the edge of our driveway (or sometimes they straight up block half of it so my roommates who drive can't use our ONE dedicated parking spot) we can't leave our garbage and recycling on the curb and have to put it in the driveway. This means that each week our passive aggressive garbage men dump a bunch of broken glass in our driveway, and my bike tires pay the price.
I will also attest that this happens in the "urban" environment all the time.
I'm sure it's only the top layer of bark that's discolored.
Put an ad on Craigslist.
If its in the street, the profits are all yours my good man.
Someone had a pile of what I can only assume must be called "beauty rocks" in the street on my block for at least six months. I don't think it was ever put to proper use but all the children in the neighborhood sure appreciated it, judging by the daily impromptu rock fights that went on all the time. I even took a poke at that mountain of little rocks on my moped one night when I was really drunk. Not on purpose mind you, I just took the corner a bit wide and found myself face down it your pretty smelling rose bushes after encountering your rock garden in the street. Clearly my fault. And thanks for not asking any questions the next morning when you saw me dragging my moped out of your slightly mangled rose bushes.
Maybe just part of a body.
Fat dead body hidden under a pile of fucking bark problems.