I HATE You: Neighborhood Meth Addict
By Lukas Kaiser on April 11, 2008 - 4:00 pm | PermalinkSome idiotic racist fools out there lock their doors when they see black people outside their doors. That's just stupid. Black people aren't going to rob you. The neighborhood meth addict will!
I've got a neighborhood meth addict. You probably have one, too. They're easy to spot... they're almost always a white chick with an eyebrow piercing and tongue stud, are dressed in bright yellow raver pants and a sweat shirt or track jacket on the hottest day of the year and have their hair pulled back into a tight pony tail. Kinda like this:
If you get a ring at your doorbell on Sunday at 9 PM, it's not a special delivery. No one works on Sunday at 9 PM. It's your neighborhood meth addict. Even though she's clearly 30-something years old, she will pretend she's a school girl. It's true that her clothes are inappropriate for a 30-something year old person, but they're certainly not clothes for a school girl either. They're clothes for a meth addict.
When she comes to the door, she will pretend she is selling something. Magazine subscriptions, most likely, but she might ask to clean your pool. You don't have a pool, though. You live on the fourth floor of an apartment building.
She will claim her services are connected to a school trip. Probably to Cancun. She thinks naming a place you probably have been to will lure you in even further. But if you've ever been to Cancun, you know the worst part about it are the meth addicts roaming around. So there's a huge glitch in her logic. But that's a given, since she smokes crystal meth. Which is basically like crack, but for poor white chicks rather than for poor black chicks.
"Are you the mom or dad of the household?" she asks. What the fuck, you think. I live in an apartment by myself. Why does there need to be a fucking mom or dad? Is she so delusional that she thinks I'm also a teenager? Wow, meth is scary.
"No, actually... they're not home." You want her to leave.
"Okay, cool. I'll just wait around until they get back." Oh, that crafty neighborhood meth addict! What will she think of next?!
"Actually, I know they're not going to be interested in having our... pool cleaned? We don't even have a pool."
"That's cool... I'm selling magazine subscriptions, too. I've even brought your complimentary first issue." She pulls out an "Entertainment Weekly" from March of 2003. Oh no! Sarah Michelle Gellar doesn't want to continue shooting "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" episodes! That meth addict... she's got the freshest news ever.
"I actually don't believe in magazines. I think they're bad for the environment." Hey, being pro-environment paid off for once. Sweet.
"Can I have ten dollars?"
You stare at her for a second. You scan her eyes to see if she's that desperate or that ballsy. She's neither. She's fucking high.
"No." You close the door in her face, possibly bumping it into her eyebrow piercing.
Bitch, don't come back.
I HATE You, Neighborhood Meth Addict!
If you get a ring at your doorbell on Sunday at 9 PM, it's not a special delivery. No one works on Sunday at 9 PM. It's your neighborhood meth addict. Even though she's clearly 30-something years old, she will pretend she's a school girl. It's true that her clothes are inappropriate for a 30-something year old person, but they're certainly not clothes for a school girl either. They're clothes for a meth addict.
When she comes to the door, she will pretend she is selling something. Magazine subscriptions, most likely, but she might ask to clean your pool. You don't have a pool, though. You live on the fourth floor of an apartment building.
She will claim her services are connected to a school trip. Probably to Cancun. She thinks naming a place you probably have been to will lure you in even further. But if you've ever been to Cancun, you know the worst part about it are the meth addicts roaming around. So there's a huge glitch in her logic. But that's a given, since she smokes crystal meth. Which is basically like crack, but for poor white chicks rather than for poor black chicks.
"Are you the mom or dad of the household?" she asks. What the fuck, you think. I live in an apartment by myself. Why does there need to be a fucking mom or dad? Is she so delusional that she thinks I'm also a teenager? Wow, meth is scary.
"No, actually... they're not home." You want her to leave.
"Okay, cool. I'll just wait around until they get back." Oh, that crafty neighborhood meth addict! What will she think of next?!
"Actually, I know they're not going to be interested in having our... pool cleaned? We don't even have a pool."
"That's cool... I'm selling magazine subscriptions, too. I've even brought your complimentary first issue." She pulls out an "Entertainment Weekly" from March of 2003. Oh no! Sarah Michelle Gellar doesn't want to continue shooting "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" episodes! That meth addict... she's got the freshest news ever.
"I actually don't believe in magazines. I think they're bad for the environment." Hey, being pro-environment paid off for once. Sweet.
"Can I have ten dollars?"
You stare at her for a second. You scan her eyes to see if she's that desperate or that ballsy. She's neither. She's fucking high.
"No." You close the door in her face, possibly bumping it into her eyebrow piercing.
Bitch, don't come back.
I HATE You, Neighborhood Meth Addict!
