A jihad against Obese, Druggie, Hoarding Wench

Obese, Druggie, Hoarding Wench

I have hated you ever since I have known you. I have never understood why my mom insisted on being nice to you. Maybe it's because she has a much bigger heart than me, and she felt sorry for you. Maybe your parents were friends with hers. But to me, that still doesn't quite explain it. You pride yourself on your unhealthy, artery-clogging baked goods which you plague upon innocent customers. They are the very foods that have caused you to gain weight to the point where you had to have gastric bypass surgery and are battling a number of chronic health issues which have caused you to become dependent on painkillers. It also doesn't help that you sit around your trailer all day in so many piles of junk you can barely walk. Didn't your doctor ever tell you that poor diet and lack of exercise leads to problems? Didn't they ever tell you that if you continue to eat like a pig, your stomach would stretch and your gastric bypass wouldn't keep you from gaining all that weight back again? I guess I can understand why your 29-year old daughter doesn't want anyone to know she got knocked up: socially isolated and without a partner, she still lives with you in that dump, manipulated by you into living your kind of lifestyle: getting disability benefits for "fibromyalgia" and getting addicted to prednisone and lord knows what other meds. You always treated her like dirt--can't understand how she can continue to put up with you. You treated me like dirt too, even when I was seven years old: telling me I wasn't as smart as your daughter because the spelling program in her school was better than mine. Writing bad checks to your son's employer, getting him fired from his job! When your single-wide mobile home was almost lost to foreclosure, you would have truly deserved it, because you have zero money management skills. Did you really think you could afford to keep that brand new car from a rip-off dealer when you're on nothing but disability for income? Someone has done royally messed you up, woman. And yes, they deserve to rot in hell. But so do you! And here's why: I can't think of another person on this earth who would be so evil as to 1) Complain to my mother that they don't have enough money for a mechanic 2) Refuse to pay the affordable and trustworthy mechanic my mother referred you to, then 3) treat my mother badly and end your friendship after she tells you she is not going to pay him for you. How unappreciative are you? Did you forget about that time I rescued your stupid cat from underneath your trailer because you were too fat to fit down there? Apparently you did forget, because now you've done something so heinous, it takes the cake! Knowing that I work for a program that provides confidential Federal assistance which your daughter suddenly starting taking advantage of unbeknownst to me, rather than ever asking me yourself (and you know how to contact me), you fabricate a story and report it to my employer behind my back, saying that some person--who you did not even identify--has found out about your stupid daughter's pregnancy, and that you don't want anyone to know she's pregnant (I don't blame you for that one!), and that I was the one who told my mother and she was the one who told this mystery woman about it---all in an attempt to get me fired for breach of confidentiality---when I did not even know your daughter was pregnant until my boss wrongfully accused me, when I didn't even know your daughter was getting assistance in some other district that is not the one I work at. I ought to sue you for defamation of character--slander! When you look at yourself in the mirror, do you ever think of the song from Mr. Grinch? If not, it goes like this:

"Your sole is an appalling dump heap, overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable, mangled up in tangled up knots...."

"The 3 words that best describe you, are as follows, and I quote:
Stink, Stank, Stunk!"

Declared by Your friendly neighbor on Thursday, August 1, 2013