You Know Who You Are

To the person who lets their dog whiz daily on my lavender plants: In your next life, you can look forward to being given a 24-inch, beautiful, fragrant, lavender catheter. Daily.

To the silly cow who lives two doors away: You can stop pronouncing to the neighborhood what a bitch I am. We're all perfectly clear, my lack of appreciation for your husband's car stereo makes me a bitch. But it's been two years now. If you need assistance in coming to terms with the fact of my bitchiness, and it seems you do, you might want to seek help outside the neighborhood, where I'm less well known as a hero for standing up to your enormous mate and his friends on the matter of their ghetto tunage. Oh, and FYI, you're white. You're white and you're measurably, demonstratively stupid. The rest of us are either not white or not stupid. Not a one of us wants to hear your music, nevermind feel it shaking our walls. So settle down and shut up a while. If you don't, you leave me no choice but to come down hard on you this time. Yeah that is a threat, and I swear to God, you beast, I'll do it. I'll come right over there and teach your 12 year old kid to read.