this morning you’d be forgiven if you came to the conclusion that there is an obesity crisis. Every single story featured fat women. It doesn’t look good at all. I dunno what’s going on there. They have got a lot of problems.
Imagining the smell.
This morning I was changing out a couple of windows on the back porch, this was after coming back from Middletown in my Porsche. I had gone there to buy some delicious Samosas from the Indian grocery. They only had yesterday’s left, but I didn’t care. I just heat them up in the oven and they’re good to go. Gary keeps texting me about his toothache. I told him to go to the fucking dentist months and months ago, but did he listen? No. Now it’s an emergency and nobody takes his health insurance. Sheeeit!
Trump’s tariffs are causing inflation in the US! ……News to me pal.
Back to the windows on the porch. The fucking asshole drain that is on the roof of this accursed porch is blocked, and I have to drag a 70 plus pound drain snake machine up onto the roof to unblock it. I’m not doing that in the blazing sun when it’s 90 degrees outside. When it rains a lot like it did last night, the water spills out of it and runs down the crappy porch windows eventually into the porch, settles on the floor and eventually makes its way through the ceiling below.
The entire fuckery of the porch is another story. The previous owners, being the useless idiots that they were, never did any maintenance, so the whole thing is sinking down on one side, and where there is a drain for the water to go out, it now comes in instead. If I could, I would dig up the graves of the long deceased morons who added the whole new back section on to this house and kick their skulls around like a football. They mutilated the back part of perfectly good building that never hurt anyone.
Hanging’s too good for them.
To counter this annoyance temporarily, I have rigged up this retarded system to divert the overflow away from the windows. I should post a picture of it, it’s so shitty.
It’s the top half of a croissant box. Classy, but it works.
Kids, do never buy a 100 plus year old three story house in North Eastern United States. You’ll be fixing stuff on it for fucking ever. Good Day.
Home – by Ian Stephen
All Vocals – Drums – Bass – Guitars – Keyboards – Banjo –
Written, Played, Recorded, Mixed and Produced by guess who.