To the angry fat-ass Better Homes and Gardens bee-yotch who hates my yard: I care about my home, but it is not my entire life. I don't know or particularly care about gardening, which must be apparent. If I plant something and it grows without watering, that is cool. If it dies because I don't water it, who in the fuck cares? It isn't meant to be there. Or if I leave a towel to dry on my deck, and forget about it, does that really mess with your serenity and quality of life enough to warrant sending your pussy-whipped husband over to rag on me? Why did it bother you so much when that ceramic pig was at the corner of my yard? It really was not meant as an assault to you. Were you afraid your husband would find her more attractive? And guess what—it is my yard, and if I want to paint my house purple, scatter dog crap all over, and grow weeds 10-feet high, I can. And maybe I will. Just keep hoe-ing and leave me the fuck alone!!!—Anonymous
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