Some people just shouldn't breed. Ever. And should be forced sterilized to boot!
Quick bit of background: My apartment complex has a few signs posted around the property, advertising the maintenance line, and that if we refer a friend and they sign a lease, then we get a rental credit. They're kind of small-ish, really only big enough to catch your eye as you walk across the paths, but not glaringly huge. One such sign is outside the laundry room I use.
I went there earlier tonight, and witnessed a gaggle of darlings kicking the sign down, stomping on it, running over it with their bikes, then picking it up and putting it back together...so they could destroy it again. Now mind you, these kids are easily between the ages of 8 -10: i.e. old enough to know better
I confront them, and ask "Is there a reason y'all feel the need to vandalize the apartment complex' property?"
Their ringleader said : We're not vandalizing it, we're putting it back up, see? <He puts it back up, and stomps it back down.
Me: That's not putting it back up, that's destroying it.
Him: It's not destroying it! It won't hurt it, we done this before lots of times.
Me: It's not your property. Therefore, what you're doing is ILLEGAL. It is a CRIME. Do you understand that...?
Blank stares. All around.
Me: Just stop it. Now.
I walk away, and upon returning to the laundry room to switch out my clothes, I'm confronted by the mother of one of those above mentioned darlings, who proceeds to try and rip into me because naturally her little precious ran and told her about the mean lady from the #7 building who was bullying him and his friends while they were playing.
Before she can get a word in, I glared at her and told her that regardless of what her little snowflake told her, I told them to stop destroying what didn't belong to them. Naturally she had NO idea what I was talking about, and I pointed to the dented, scuffed sign, and told her what I'd caught them doing. Naturally I'm a liar, and she's reporting me to the property manager tomorrow.
Go for it, says I, for I remembered while back in my apartment that these were the same little darlings who had set a fire in the two laundry rooms last year, which EQ and I had managed to catch and I stomped one out. I asked if she was Mrs. So-and-so and she was surprised I knew her name. I explained I knew that because her wunderkind had started the fire using his homework worksheets from school with his name on them, and that got turned over to the leasing office crew. I'm sure they'd just LOVE to know her little firebugs like to kick stuff down, too.
I hate people. I don't know if I'm this pissed off because she can't parent and her twisted, vile little asswipes are still living there and doing whatever they fucking please, or if I'm just still pissed about what happened earlier and still channeling it. I ended up getting hurt at the store earlier, and have an imprint bruise of a shopping cart on my hip/upper thigh area, right where my leg curves down into the inner thigh. The situation caused me to call a woman a fucking cunt. I hate that word. And I used it. And I now have stripey bruises forming in an uncomfortable area, and I had to deal with stupid, whiny little punks on top of everything else.
I. Hate. People.
And kids.
Grrrr.
Quick bit of background: My apartment complex has a few signs posted around the property, advertising the maintenance line, and that if we refer a friend and they sign a lease, then we get a rental credit. They're kind of small-ish, really only big enough to catch your eye as you walk across the paths, but not glaringly huge. One such sign is outside the laundry room I use.
I went there earlier tonight, and witnessed a gaggle of darlings kicking the sign down, stomping on it, running over it with their bikes, then picking it up and putting it back together...so they could destroy it again. Now mind you, these kids are easily between the ages of 8 -10: i.e. old enough to know better
I confront them, and ask "Is there a reason y'all feel the need to vandalize the apartment complex' property?"
Their ringleader said : We're not vandalizing it, we're putting it back up, see? <He puts it back up, and stomps it back down.
Me: That's not putting it back up, that's destroying it.
Him: It's not destroying it! It won't hurt it, we done this before lots of times.
Me: It's not your property. Therefore, what you're doing is ILLEGAL. It is a CRIME. Do you understand that...?
Blank stares. All around.
Me: Just stop it. Now.
I walk away, and upon returning to the laundry room to switch out my clothes, I'm confronted by the mother of one of those above mentioned darlings, who proceeds to try and rip into me because naturally her little precious ran and told her about the mean lady from the #7 building who was bullying him and his friends while they were playing.
Before she can get a word in, I glared at her and told her that regardless of what her little snowflake told her, I told them to stop destroying what didn't belong to them. Naturally she had NO idea what I was talking about, and I pointed to the dented, scuffed sign, and told her what I'd caught them doing. Naturally I'm a liar, and she's reporting me to the property manager tomorrow.
Go for it, says I, for I remembered while back in my apartment that these were the same little darlings who had set a fire in the two laundry rooms last year, which EQ and I had managed to catch and I stomped one out. I asked if she was Mrs. So-and-so and she was surprised I knew her name. I explained I knew that because her wunderkind had started the fire using his homework worksheets from school with his name on them, and that got turned over to the leasing office crew. I'm sure they'd just LOVE to know her little firebugs like to kick stuff down, too.
I hate people. I don't know if I'm this pissed off because she can't parent and her twisted, vile little asswipes are still living there and doing whatever they fucking please, or if I'm just still pissed about what happened earlier and still channeling it. I ended up getting hurt at the store earlier, and have an imprint bruise of a shopping cart on my hip/upper thigh area, right where my leg curves down into the inner thigh. The situation caused me to call a woman a fucking cunt. I hate that word. And I used it. And I now have stripey bruises forming in an uncomfortable area, and I had to deal with stupid, whiny little punks on top of everything else.
I. Hate. People.
And kids.
Grrrr.
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