White Trash House

I've recently come to the realization that I have become white trash.

It is a very sad and very harsh realization to be sure. But true nonetheless. You should see my house. I live in a neighborhood of older folk who keep up their homes and lawns. My house is the eyesore on the block. So much so that I have named my residence...

Chez Poubelle du Blanc.

The other night as I was watching TV, I heard a couple noises outside. It sounded like a squirrel on the roof or something and I blew it off. The noise I heard was actually the sound of my gutters falling off the front of my house. Yes, I discovered it while coming home from a hard day at the office. As I approached my home I see the entire north side gutter sagging like Brittney's labia.

So I have been forced to call a gutter guy. How much this will cost is anyone's guess. And then I'll be forced to paint the outside of the house, which is ok because the creamy-yellowy-beigey color is really hideous and the paint is peeling in spots.

Also, my lawn is a complete embarassment. The half acre around my house is a goulash of chickweed, clover, crabgrass, dandelions, violets, and the occasional yard onion. I think the small amount of actual grass is fescue, but I'm not sure. The only things missing at this point are an engine block and a toilet planter.

I have spent the last two nights mowing my lawn and then spraying it with a very unenvironmentally friendly weed killer. I think it goes by the name "Bitch Kill" or something. The label promises to kill over 250 weed varieties and yet leave the grass untouched (ah! just as nature intended).

Inside my house, I have a toilet that needs a new float mechanism, a bathroom that needs a new sink, and a stove that needs a new burner. I also have a wall in my living room that has been waiting for paint ever since I had a doorway installed and some drywalling done... 2 years ago.

If it weren't for the fact that I like sucking dick, I would SO not qualify for gay status.