The FUCK do people think it’s okay to have a four-sided conversation at bar interior volume, complete with obscenities and raucous laughter, right in front of my open fucking front window where I have no choice but to hear it? All of it.
You are the worst kind of cunts. You are the steaming, festering dump of the earth. I don’t want to hear what stupid shit you think is funny, or what you think passes as moral injustices in your life. I don’t think it’s cute, and I also don’t understand why you can’t walk and talk, or have this meeting INSIDE where the entire STREET is free of you, especially ragingly pregnant and misanthropic me.
What in the FUCK did I ever do to you to deserve this disrespect?
And, no, this isn’t the first time. They’re simply on a different side. My apartment is situated right next to the main road, bordered by sidewalk on two ends. All I can do is slam my window closed and growl to myself… and slither angrily to post to Tumblr.
They’re not exactly the type you can politely ask to lower their voices.
It pains me that the most commonly reblogged item under the ‘dictionary’ tag (it’s completely useless—i should just stop trying, put it to bed) is the visual shoe dictionary and stinky excerpts on love.
Where the hell are the idiosyncrasy? Or the austere? The ambient? The malediction? Fetid, futile, forefinger, fractural, phalanges? Or any ol’ titillating word you might actually WANT to incorporate into your normal lexicon?