Hello Darkness! The Official Blog of Helen Keller

Folks, I'll be plain. I don't live in a cheap neighbourhood. It costs some money to live where I do and while I'm not expecting to see Eva Mendes fucking Daisy Fuentes with a diamond dildo on an area rug made from the skin of kidnapped hobos when I peek in the windows, I at least expect to see a flat-panel TV on the wall and some tasteful Bombay Company furniture.

However, there are some people out there who simply don't understand the concept of owning a home that is exposed to the public. These people instead live in some acid-trip fantasy land where they think that their awful considerations constitute future heritage homes even though it's ulgy enough to bring a man painfully to his knees by sight alone. There needs to be cosmic justice for these asswipes; the same cosmic justice that will eventually rise up and righteously staple Michael Buble's nutsack to his mouth, keeping the little dipshit off the public radar.



FRONT AND GARAGE DOOR COLOURS THAT DO NOT BELONG

A lot of modern neighbourhoods are designed around a central concept of making small "villages" tucked away in the great city. Some architect plowed through a cereal bowl of cocaine one night and cooked up one grand vision of the neighbourhood. And then along come Mr. & Mrs. Colour-Blind Shitfisters who decide, with all the thinking power their shrunken idiot brains can muster, that nothing would be finer on an ash-gray brick house than to slather baby-blue paint on the front and garage door. It's a goddamn eyesore. I saw one wheel-chair cripple sign a pact with the devil, surrendering his soul for the chance to walk up to a hot-pink garage door and kick it a ham-sized dent in the bottom.

Honestly folks, if you believe that you're adding to the social character of your neighbourhood by painting your house, trim or garage some fucked up colour; don't. You're not. You're not creative, eccentric or unique. You're just some putzy dick dropping property values.

ANNOYING DOGS

Some dogs are okay. Large dogs, small dogs, stinky dogs, I really don't care. Whatever makes your family happy. But, if you do have a dog, train the fucking thing. When I'm out and about in my neighbourhood, I don't want to always pass by that one house that has the panicky little piece of shit dog that yips its fool fucking head off whenever anybody nears. It's not even like the dog is outside either. The thing is inside, screeching in terror that somebody is on the sidewalk some distance from the house. Not only is it a pain in my ass, but I truly don't understand how somebody could let a retarded hairball ruin dinner, sleep or dicking the babysitter EVERY moment of every day.

Just once, I'd like to pass by the house, hear the freak-pooch go yippy apeshit before finally hearing a voice from another room boom "GODDAMMIT, THAT'S IT", followed by the heavy clumping of feet towards the dog and then the sound of a refrigerator being tipped over and crashing to the ground. Then silence.

I'll never get that though. Usually it's "Okay Mrs. Tinkerpuff, that's enough barking...that's enough thank you....please stop now....." overtop of the hideous banshee yaps.

LANDSCAPING

People need to get professional landscaping to enhance their house. Not just for themselves, but for the rest of us too. And, in fairness, a lot of people do get professional landscaping, but then they get cutesy and fuck it up. Nothing looks worse than to have a nice arrangement of plants punctuated by a plaster baby-bunny, hedgehog or some other piece of grade 8 art shit. If you want to have kitsch, do it inside your house, but don't subject us to it. And for the sake of Christ in Heaven above, take those fucking pinwheels off the tops of bushes. The next person I see putting pinwheels any where on their property, I'm tieing them to a mall-entrance where they can amuse passersby by chewing popcans for a nickel a bite.

Get some professional landscaping honed to your preferences and then leave it the fuck alone. Honestly, it's not that different than when a pretty girl with nothing else to offer tries to perfect her prettiness and ends up piercing, tattooing, bronzing or make-up spackeling herself into ugly trash. I'm specifically thinking of the annoying bitch who works in the Tim Horton's drive through where I live. The outside of the cup is greasy from her paints and oils. Ick.

Anyway, that folks, are some neighbourhood truths that need to be upheld.

Also, would Peter McKay just admit he's gay already? He's got that Tom Cruise vibe going on and the act has run thin.