For two weeks the Palace has had workers. Ordered to pile cement blocks they're digging out to replace with more cement, the workers placed the broken concrete on our property. Right next to the garage in a large stack. I asked how long are they going to be there and that they will be removed. Some Israeli contractor they hired that puts up settlers home in the Gaza strip said, "Not long."
"How long is not long?" I ask.
"Tomorrow.'
Tomorrow was a week. Okay, I'm not going to blow a gasket over it and the workers used the parking area in front of the garage door to park their car, I'm not going to shoo them away, they leave by five and figure their not going to keep parking there. Then Daddy comes over with his so called free paint proposition, it's really to make his property look bigger and I'm not going for it. Once you paint redwood you're stuck with it. And redwood ages beautifully, way better than shit-brown paint.
The other night a car is trying to park in the space right in front of our garage. I'm watching and who ever is driving can't seem to maneuver very well, it takes them several attempts. Then they stay in the car and I'm wondering what in fuck are they doing? Later I hear arguments, Daddy next door knows who his is and they spend half the night arguing in the alley. It wasn't until eleven that night that they left.
Now, Daddy and Mean Queen are parking their fucking trashcans right in back of our garage. What the fuck is that? So I take their god-damn cans and move them on their fucking property. I hope the Israelis have a good idea that the Queers of Gaza aren't taking that shit. Let a fucking Israeli start taking over your property and they'll move a whole god-damn family in on you.
Fuck you pushy Jews of Israel, eat shit.
The bomb making Muslims on the other side are coming in late, leaving early and pulling bomb parts out of their ass to assemble in the garage. What the fuck is going to happen to the Queers of Gaza? Stay tuned.
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