Living next to the projects: Bad

40-oz malt liquor bottles litter your curbside.

I picked up enough empty bottles of Colt 45 to fill two plastic grocery bags. I don't exactly know how many bottles that turned out to be as I was too aggravated to count them all. Despite my irate state, I had to chuckle at the ghetto-fab cliche. I better get used to it, we live between the Denver Housing Authority Projects and the liquor store.

Living next to the projects: Good

You can entice vagrants to shovel your sidewalks for spare change.

I could see my breath it was so cold. I hate this sidewalk. I hate this snow. I can't feel my hands. Fuck it's cold... The sorry looking vagrant with a labyrinth of burst blood vessels crisscrossing his chapped cheeks and frostbit nose approached me and interrupted my checklist of hate. He asked for a buck and I mentally added pathetic beggar to my list. I dismissed his pleading by leaning on my shovel and truthfully informing him that my pockets were empty. The shivering vagrant tilted his head toward the house. I nodded my head at the snow packed sidewalk. He extended a gloved hand smeared with streaks of frozen snot and I handed over the shovel. When the industrious vagabond finished I gave him $3 that I scrounged up in the cozy house. As the vagrant walked away, probably to go buy a holy grail full of Colt 45, I mentally removed him from my hate list.
...and so it was written, shenry at 3/07/2003 06:51:00 PM.
...and so it was appended with .