Mortadella Roulette

The best before date on the mortadella (hot) was July third 2004. It was at the bottom of my crisper vacuum packed and safely cooled. I must of purchased it well before July, I always check the dates.
It passed the smell test so I decided to eat a few slices for breakfast on brown toast with butter and havarti. So far so good. I feel great. Rumor has it mortadella is made from horse meat - or is it donkey? I wonder. I will eat the rest of the bale of meat for lunch with a toasted cheese and herb bagel with yet another slice of havarti. I wonder if I will puke before nightfall?
The belches taste ok - I think its fine.

The racoons got into our garbage. The garbage men refused to take it because my wife left a bag of cat food tins on top of the can. Those fucks will use any excuse to pass up a lift. lazily I left the can outside instead of putting it back into the garage - I thought I could hear something last night as I slept.

I saw the wife of the neighbour leaving the house this morning - man is she fat. She was carrying a bunch of sacks and purses. Maybe she is leaving him - then the hookers could move in.

I have issues...

I have a few issues I need to discuss.

My First Time

Hookers were knocking on my neigbour's door. I heard them screaming for money. There were two of them, and some guy in a pickup truck. It was the second time I had seen them. They came another time at 5am. One of them yelled at the neighbour to get his wife down here so she could tell her why her husband owed her money. They were ugly. I wonder if it would of been as bad if they were hot. He is ugly too - a tiny balding alcoholic that likes to mix drinks with prescription medication.
You can't put lipstick on a pig.
The hookers left empty handed, and the cops showed up 45 minutes later.

Our street is small, and there is a bunch of co-op housing accross from our house. When we bought the place we thought they looked quaintly European.

I like to watch everyone. I peal back the blinds just a crack and see what's happening; something is always going on.
The kids on the street are like apes. They slouch all day long with big chips on their shoulders. Their pregnant moms stuck to rank sofas in front of their televisions. There are no dads. one might show up every two weeks - but never enough to remember.

We live here and don't get too uptight about it. Our house is nice and you have to really watch the neighbours to get an idea about what is really going on. At times my wife thinks she might of heard gun shots. I tell her it was just a car back-firing.

I am sure the hookers will be back. I wonder how the wife feels about it? I can't figure a way a guy could talk his way out of that one. And who would be stupid enough to give hookers their home address?

I thought that hookers always demanded money up front? I wouldn't of had sex with those pigs even if they were paying me.