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ornithopter: The Feet Of My Neighbors |
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I really haven't met my neighbors, but I have observed them creepily from between my blinds. I live on a private way with a few other houses. Following are my impressions of their feet:
The Lesbian Couple at the end of my street: Well, one of them has her foot right up her own ass, I believe. Complains about people using her 2 deeded parking spots when she seems to prefer using the ones for the use of other residents. Drives a Subaru with a bumpersticker which reads "If You're Not Outraged, You're Not Paying Attention." Duh. That's WHY I don't pay attention.
The Crackers across the street from them: Let's call them Cracker Susie and Cracker Sam. Hers, swathed in Birkenstocks and with probable scabs from where she injects the heroin between her toes. His, shackled by the cops when they come to arrest him when he starts waving a gun around.
The people across the street from me: I don't know. They seem nice enough. Perhaps the lady wears those shoes that look like a pump, but feel like a sneaker.
The three lesbians who live upstairs: I only point out their sexuality because they are apparently involved in an activity that seems to be sweeping the (pretty large) lesbian community in my neighborhood. Namely, wrestling. I am not kidding, this really happens. A bunch of lesbians get together at someone's house (often my upstairs neighbor's) and wrestle each other into the early morning hours, causing downstairs neighbors to call the freaking cops on them so that they can get some fucking sleep, already. So, I suppose they wear wrestling shoes.
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