Just Send the Package to my House...In TRASHLAND!

It's bad enough, bad enough I say, that I suspect the old man next door to me of being dead, but the fact that somebody has literally thrown out EVERYTHING from his house is extremely distressing. If he is in there, how the fuck will he be able to get out? His doorway is a mountain of defunct recliners and dirty rubbish. If he's dead, what the fuck? I met his daughter, Jennifer, and she seemed like a healthy lady. She should clean that trash up. Every time I walk to my house I feel like a rat is about to jump up my ass.

Not only that, but roughly two weeks ago I was making some pancakes, when I saw a tiny puppy pee on everything in my neighbor's back yard. The puppy was extremely unkempt and had, need I say it, a beard of "dingleberries" that I could detect from two stories away. I called one of my fellow girl-wieners, Lang Fisher, to ask what I should do. But the next thing I saw was the crazy lady from next door open some sort of can and lure the dirty dog away. Strange, I thought, but I've literally failed THREE TIMES at owning and caring for a dog, so it's better that she snagged him. I ate my pancakes and thought nothing more of this incident.

THEN. Yesterday, as I was anxiously approaching the shitheap outside my (dead?) neighbor's house, I saw the crazy lady, and the dirty puppy. She had done the unthinkable: put the dog in a powder blue suit and named him JUSTIN. JUSTIN??? I'm about to have another dead neighbor because that is just infuriating. Justin? Calling a dog with a dirty rear end "JUSTIN", like "justin, come inside," or "justin, don't go out of the yard," is so so so stupid. I'm surrounded by trash and idiots. Justin is literally the most douchebag name for a dog.

Thank goodness I'm SO GOOD at making smoothies. Blended fruit will solve any problem. Unless you are a puppy named JUSTIN. Then you're dealing with some real shit. Literally.
Love,
Jenny