It's time for a new feature on Red Stapler: Meet The White Trash Neighbor.
Here's his back yard, just to give you an idea of what we are dealing with:
His back yard that abuts MY back yard, which is not going to win the Garden Club grand prize either, but at least there are no rusting hulks out there.
He bought the house and IMMEDIATELY began filling up the yard with trash and rusting metal things.
This post is sponsored by Ativan, which is what I may have to take if Terry, for that is his name, doesn't stop driving me INSANE.
It is Saturday. A warm day. A day when one might conceivably wish to have one's windows open. But no.
Terry has some old 1960's, pre-emissions-control truck and he has been out there for 2 hours revving his engine, producing clouds of noxious fumes. I should leave, you might suggest. Oh, yes, I would if I could. But I need to work.
Ah well. At least he's not doing his other hobbies - welding, shaping sheet metal, or chasing his pit bulls around.
I almost want to stand on my front steps and yell "STOP BEING SUCH A STEREOTYPE." Maybe I'll just take him a case of Bud Light instead.