Don't Touch My Car
Maybe about twenty minutes ago, some fuckwit paintballed my car. Bright orange paint. On my car.
I'd parked on the road just outside my house so others could get out of the driveway. My car was there for just over an hour. However, maybe ten minutes before I went out to move it back into the driveway, these assholes in a blue pickup drove by and shot it with a paintball gun. Lindy was actually out in the yard, hence the description, but didn't realize what they'd done until I stormed into the house to grab some paper towels to start cleaning my car off. I will say this: thank god the paint was still wet.
I phoned the police. I might not have a license plate or great description, but damn if I'm going to do nothing. I think it's the same assholes who have been driving around the neighbourhood saying incomprehensible shit out of a bullhorn. Yelling at me while I'm mowing the lawn is one thing; paintballing my car is another. Now I'm seriously pissed. (Though somewhat apologetic for all the recent journal swearing.)
