God. Rural living. This morning I had a herd of pigs of my porch.
Okay, I have a question to ask you guys. Can Yankees be rednecks too or is that just a Southern thing? Or, would you just call a really nasty, tacky person: trash? The reason I ask is because of my neighbor. Well, maybe I need to clarify that, it’s the neighbor I inherited when my dad died and left me this house in Lincolnton. My neighbor, George is from upstate New York and let me try to explain him here: if you took Grizzly Adams and got him addicted to crack cocaine for years, commanded him to only speak in a pirate’s growl (aaaargh, ahoy there me maties!) and then turned him loose in a small town in western North Carolina after threatening him that you’d hunt him down and kill him like a little bitch if he ever washed again, you’d have my neighbor in a nutshell.
George is about 60, I think (it’s kinda hard to tell underneath all that dirt). George is single. He does have a hot-ass son from a previous marriage that used to walk around in the yard half naked sometimes and girls, don’t you know I was glued to the window like Mrs. Kravitz when he did that. George has 27 cars (most up on blocks) in his yard, it seems he was a mechanic back in New York at some point.
George also has his own bulldozer and one of those big scooper-thingies they use to bring up big buckets of dirt. George took the bulldozer and systematically knocked down every tree on his lot and scraped up every blade of glass off his land. It is now just one big field of orange mud (pretty, huh). Then George took big scooper thingy and dug huge holes all over his land, not sure why… Just cause he could, I suppose. He’s almost like some bored little boy playing with his Tonka trucks. He needs to get a fuckin’ J.O.B. and he wouldn’t have time to be digging holes everywhere for no reason. I mean, really. And might I add that his property line is only about 400 yards from my house, so all this shit is right there in my face every day.
Okay, now let’s move on to his menagerie of farm animals that he doesn’t keep pinned up and runs around loose through his yard (and often through mine). Over the years, I’ve chased chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, horses, mules, cows and just this morning, FUCKIN’ pigs from my yard.
Okay, that was just too much. The rest, I just grinned and ran them away, chalking it up to quirky country living, but I’ll be goddamn if I’m going to let somebody’s herd of pigs walk around on my porch. Too fuckin’ much, girls! I called animal control and told them to come get those fuckin’ animals out of my yard of I was going to fuckin’ have a BBQ in a split second. They were there quick as a flash, they could tell I wasn’t playing, I was so PISSED that I was shaking. I don’t understand how someone could be so thoughtless as to think I wouldn’t mind their herd of pigs snorting around and shitting everywhere on my property. I mean, goddamn, how rude, ya know.
Anyway, that’s my day. Ya’ll be good and eat the fuck out of some pork, okay.
Okay, I have a question to ask you guys. Can Yankees be rednecks too or is that just a Southern thing? Or, would you just call a really nasty, tacky person: trash? The reason I ask is because of my neighbor. Well, maybe I need to clarify that, it’s the neighbor I inherited when my dad died and left me this house in Lincolnton. My neighbor, George is from upstate New York and let me try to explain him here: if you took Grizzly Adams and got him addicted to crack cocaine for years, commanded him to only speak in a pirate’s growl (aaaargh, ahoy there me maties!) and then turned him loose in a small town in western North Carolina after threatening him that you’d hunt him down and kill him like a little bitch if he ever washed again, you’d have my neighbor in a nutshell.
George is about 60, I think (it’s kinda hard to tell underneath all that dirt). George is single. He does have a hot-ass son from a previous marriage that used to walk around in the yard half naked sometimes and girls, don’t you know I was glued to the window like Mrs. Kravitz when he did that. George has 27 cars (most up on blocks) in his yard, it seems he was a mechanic back in New York at some point.
George also has his own bulldozer and one of those big scooper-thingies they use to bring up big buckets of dirt. George took the bulldozer and systematically knocked down every tree on his lot and scraped up every blade of glass off his land. It is now just one big field of orange mud (pretty, huh). Then George took big scooper thingy and dug huge holes all over his land, not sure why… Just cause he could, I suppose. He’s almost like some bored little boy playing with his Tonka trucks. He needs to get a fuckin’ J.O.B. and he wouldn’t have time to be digging holes everywhere for no reason. I mean, really. And might I add that his property line is only about 400 yards from my house, so all this shit is right there in my face every day.
Okay, now let’s move on to his menagerie of farm animals that he doesn’t keep pinned up and runs around loose through his yard (and often through mine). Over the years, I’ve chased chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, horses, mules, cows and just this morning, FUCKIN’ pigs from my yard.
Okay, that was just too much. The rest, I just grinned and ran them away, chalking it up to quirky country living, but I’ll be goddamn if I’m going to let somebody’s herd of pigs walk around on my porch. Too fuckin’ much, girls! I called animal control and told them to come get those fuckin’ animals out of my yard of I was going to fuckin’ have a BBQ in a split second. They were there quick as a flash, they could tell I wasn’t playing, I was so PISSED that I was shaking. I don’t understand how someone could be so thoughtless as to think I wouldn’t mind their herd of pigs snorting around and shitting everywhere on my property. I mean, goddamn, how rude, ya know.
Anyway, that’s my day. Ya’ll be good and eat the fuck out of some pork, okay.
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