Come th-Fuck On!!!!

According to Google Street View...

They have a lovely yard, and a yard waste bin.

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AND a perfectly lovely stretch of trail upon where they can dump whatever they like///

Send your thoughts and praises to:

16115 NE 105th Ct

Redmond, WA 98052

%Dumpy Dumping Bitch

Botched Post

Some lady was lopping a pile of tree limbs which she had dragged, from her back yard, out to the trail in the straightaway east of 104th.  

I've seen neighbors dumping their yard waste on the trail, and it drives me insane.  I've taken it up with code enforcement Officer McCarthy, but I've never gotten results.

I decided I'd snap a picture of the lady in the act, and later assess whether or not she did a considerate job of dumping in the commons.  

However, I wasn't able to snap the picture because there was this looming man who was walking his dog and stopping every 20 feet and looking over his shoulder, and he was taking his sweet time passing this lady whom, even though I think is terrible, I don't think was committing an act deserving of being stalked by some creepo who drove himself to the trail, and parked his car at the 104th crossing.  

So, instead of taking a picture of her, I took a picture of his car because you never know.  

Observed Trend

Oh neat!

Some selfish fuck replaced my palm with the damaged bollard.  

My neighborly neighbor pointed out that the staple was probably sawed off, instead of clipped off, because the ends are not pinched.  

That probably took forever to cut.  

I bet when he was cutting the second side, he stopped caring about the passing cars.

Now that the bollard is back in place, can you see how the ravaged staple no longer aligns with the grey, square hasp?

That's because the fucking pig, who stole our palm, didn't clean all the dirt from the planter.  

What a furious, selfish thief.  

Aww, I love when my aggression corrupts others.  

-Neighbor out.

Thwarted

These awful sunglasses, and this key, I took with me to the trail today.  

They are symbols of my aggression. 

Usually I take nothing to the trail, but my jogging gear.  

Those of you waiting for the berry's to ripen can probably understand that I've waited, a very long week, to reep what I've sewn on the trail... and it's a beautiful seafair Saturday.

With the bollard in sight, I was so excited to get a look at the trail.

Mother Fucker vitiated the bollard!

The lock is gone, and one of the boats is gone.

That shitty fucking asshole couldn't get through my lock, so he sabotaged the staple.

Twice!

The bollard was not his to modify and the lock was not his to take... but it is Seafair weekend, after all.

I lost my shit for a second.  I got really pissed.  

I got really, really, really pissed.

Really fucking pissed.

I would never fuck with the guy's house, but I did walk passed the front of it.

He's not even at Seafair!!!!!!!

I'd like to think that sabotaging the bollard took so long that he missed the opportunity to launch his boat at a sensible time.

Maybe it ruined his Seafair, the same way he ruined part of the trail.  

Being that this guy has rendered the middle bollard obsolete, I have planted a fucking palm in its place.  

I think it's really quite lovely.  

Look!  You can still see it all the way over there.

Hi Palm!!!!!

-Neighbor out.

The Power of Action

This is the narrow opening to the trail on the west side of 104th.

These are called Bollards, and they're used to obstruct motor vehicles.

When a vehicle needs to access the trail, the bollard in the middle is unlocked and removed.

This one looks locked, but it's actually not.

These boats belong to a guy who figured out how to remove the unlocked bollard (around 9:45pm last wednesday night) in the dark.

This is Seafair weekend.

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This is a $15 lock which you can get at Home Depot.  

Enjoy your beloved Seafair, Guy Who Parks His Boats On The Trail.

-Neighbor out. 

Seriously Guys????????

Yesterday, I was so stoked to see that my roses on the trail had taken on this EPIC pink color. They are just amazing.

These past few days, the highlight of my jog has been to stop by and smell them until I get a head rush.

They smell SO fucking good!

This evening, as the sun was setting, I rolled up to love them, just as I've been doing on every jog since mid march. I honestly believed that these roses would never bloom. I don't know if you're aware but the trails are a really hostile environment to plant something that you plan to love.

And... So it goes... Mother Fucker, What the Fuck!!!!!!!

I've known for fucking months that I could've been setting myself up for heartache. I figured that a deer might punish it, or that aphids would infest it, or perhaps some fat little kid would pick the blossoms and yuck my yum.



But... Fucking Shovel Marks??????

When I came upon the scene I had an instant Warp Spasm and went sniffing out the sick fuck who dug up these dope roses.

In the twisted logic of the criminal mind, it is a victim-less crime to steal blooming roses, planted for all to enjoy.

And, I deduce they used a bucket to transport the loot because there were no fallen rose petals to be found in the surrounding area.

I hit the streets, casing every front yard between 166th and Meadow Park.

It felt like this.

I didn't find my roses (yet), but I happened to note that there are roses planted in every other yard.
They're everywhere.
Here's some from my yard.

I understand that roses are not some precious commodity in major demand, but Time, Work, Love, Selflessness and apparently RISK, went into nourishing these roses and I'm just so fucking disappointing in you.

You, the thieving renter, who stole my roses and will probably plant them in the shade... Fuck you, and clean up your dog shit!

You, the out of town guest who is going to grind my roses into some Slavic Jam/Preserves... I hope your family gets fucking botulism.

You, the selfish piece of trash, who plans to brag at your next bbq about how you salvaged wild roses from the buffer... I hope you pricked your finger on my thorns and an infection festers to the point where you have to retrain your hand in order to resume touching yourself.

You, the sweet old lady, who assumed those roses would get more love in your back yard... you are so fucking wrong.

What the fuck you guys. Seriously! What the fuck.

-Neighbor out.

In Bloom

Look whose roses finally bloomed!!!!!

I counted down the days to the last frost and planted these in march.

I planted them under one of the utility fences so that the grounds crew wouldn't mow over them.

It worked.

But, some hostile force decimated the leaves and buds in the last week of May.

To which they replied "fuck that."

I don't know if the spider that lives here had anything to do with their revival, but she can stay.

Boom!

Bummer

Here's a photo essay.