Nina is a Ho's Name

Look, nobody wants to say it... but we're all thinking it.

Nina is probably dead.

Stay busy, my Snoqualmie Ridge Dreamers.

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.

Trying to Cope

I can't say for sure, but according to my hip, I jogged about 5 miles of sidewalk looking for my roses this morning.

While I jogged, I pictured heart breaking scenarios in the context of "where could they be right now?"

Maybe the fucker who took them was toting them around on a crime spree, to -like- impress them.

Maybe the dirty bastard was using them to freshen up.

Or maybe they'd already been sold into sex slavery.

Having burned through most of the morning, I jumped in the car to cruise the rich neighborhoods.

30 houses in, I got stopped by the Redmond Police.

It's block watch weekend (or some shit) and I heard at a block watch... thing... that Redmond averages 2 burglaries a week.

I wasn't speeding or anything -I was casing houses- but I "had a break light out" (not really) and the officer wanted to pull my card.

I'm cool with that.

Speaking of RPD, is Officer Hovenden ever going to fucking age?

This guy's been on the force for EASILY 15 years and he still looks like he could nail every barista in town.

The officer who pulled me over asked where I was going.

I told him what was up. "Someone uprooted my roses so I'm rolling through the neighborhoods looking for them."

I was anticipating him telling me that I'm not at liberty to reclaim my roses if they're planted in someone else's yard... yet he didn't.

But we both sorta know, now that I've been logged as hungry for street justice, I'll kinda need permission from the thief to liberate my roses or I'll be running the risk of getting pinched for an actual crime (as opposed to stealing my roses from the trail, which was not really a crime).

Even though Redmond Police are really cool across the board, they'd still have to find, arrest, and help prosecute me if they got the call.

So... huff.

I posted fucking signs.

I posted one to get your attention.

And the other one is the pity party.

The Sign reads:

A world absent fences is

A world absent those

who would uproot

blooming roses,

planted for all to love.

(And then there's an arrow pointing everyone to the hole left behind by the shit-tard miscreant who stole the roses.)

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.