Can you hear Elvis singing?

This is the Iowa Ghetto where I live. That red arrow on the right is where Handicapped chick lives, and the red arrow on the left is where Handicapped Chick has to navigate to on her walker to get to her truck. See what I mean? Who designs these places? Did they say to each other "oh, handicapped people are so annoying, lets put them clear in Buttfuck Egypt so they don't slow down the other people?" I think they did. I don't know why she doesn't go ass over teakettle every time she step's out the door, what with that hill. The red X is where Fat Chick (with the kids) lives..six kids and two boy friends in a two bedroom underground apartment. It must be like a cave from Fisher Price Hell. No wonder she smokes out on the stoop every five minutes, even in a blizzard.

Anyhow this isn't the worst place to live..I chose it because after years of mowing my own lawn and shoveling my own snow (and fixing my own plumbing) I can just sit up here in relative comfort and judge people through the window. It's not as dreary as it looks here, most everyone plants flowers or veggies in the summer and puts Christmas lights up in the winter. They just don't turn them on in the middle of the day when snow storms hit. I don't know why, I do. I just leave mine on all the time, from November until January 1st. But, they don't blink..that's being mean to your neighbors, in case you didn't know. I call this The Ghetto because it's out here in the middle of nowhere and there's 12 buildings all pretty much alike. I'm convinced there are more people out here than in the whole tiny town. I call that side you see there The Bare Side because across the street here we have some landscaping. Boooshes. Lilacs and Spirea and other stuff that won't bloom next year because I caught the "professional" yard guy trimming them down into fartsy boxy shapes last August. You can bet I told his ass off and he now knows the difference between old wood and new wood. Idiot! There's always next year.

So, that's my front view..I live upstairs which clearly makes me superior to people who live half underground..it just does. Out my back and side windows I see trees and cornfields. There's a gang out here, yep, all ghettos have gangs, right? The gang is a crap load of little boys who like to play in the treeline right outside my window. Their parents never watch them and have decided since they don't bother anyone but me and I'm not a Christian, that's it's all good. The pictures are deceiving, the trees are old and huge and there's a double row of pines backed by walnut trees. You can find paths in there and hiding spots and good low branches for napping. Not that these kids ever nap, but, they could. There are endless games of shoot 'em up and kill ya, which I don't get, but, seem the most popular. Once the gang drug an old mattress and a couple of couch cushions out of the dumpster and piled them under a pine and tried to make a trampoline. I caught them 30 feet up in the tree and yelled at them before they learned about gravity. Dumbass kids. There's about 8-10 regulars and they range from age 5 to age 8. They're used to me yelling out the window.."get the hell down from there" and "I'm not you're friggin' babysitter." But, sometimes I give them juice boxes and sammys because the poor little shits stay out there all day and they look hungry. That does NOT make me a nice person or their friend. It just means they annoy me first whenever they're selling something for their gawd awful public schools. You have to wonder wtf schools are thinking to make door to door salesmen out of little kids. It's ridiculous and dangerous..do they really think people who let their kids play in the treeline all day and half the night are going to go with their kids to sell overpriced plastic crap? Doh. Anyhow, now these kids now think I'm mostly a "good" witch and even though they're wrong, I don't pick on kids..much. So they knock on my rather isolated door and I greet them with "You shouldn't go to peoples apartments out here alone. You shouldn't talk to strangers." They run right in while I'm giving the speech and start asking "What's this for? What's that for?" You know, like witches apartments are so much more interesting than theirs. Sometimes I yell "Don't touch that, it will send you back in time to the olden days!" You now, the olden days, where we fought fire breathing dragons and watched Gilligan's Island on prime time. Pfffft. They especially like my disembodied hand collection which is nothing more than old displays from long dead doctors offices, you can take them apart to see the bones. They are convinced these are Muggles who have wronged me in some way and I've petrified their remains. I finally say give me one of whatever stupid crap you're selling and go away. I own lots of crap anyway, what's one more school bus pin up calendar or sparkly floating glitter candle that really floats! Someone tell me where the fuck I'm supposed to float this shit. I'll tell you where I'd like to float it..in their parents bathtub because that's obviously not being used for anything else.

The whole point here is..I don't know anyone in Hollywood except my son (waves at Eric, and where's my exclusive picture of Lohan drinking??)..and if people think I do, then I have a real floating candle and a calander to sell them. This site has become just well enough known to garner me emails from D-list douchebags wanting me to promote really bad reality shows. And offer me interviews with really stupid people. I can talk to stupid people right here and I don't have to put ads on my site to do it. If I put enough ads on here, maybe someday I could move out of the ghetto..but, why would I want to? I'm a local legend here. Uhh huu, I'm addicted to fame. And I'm NOT nice or I wouldn't secretly be The Dirty Disher. To those locals who have found this place..you stfu or I'll put a curse on you and give you ghetto pinkeye for Christmas. I'm bad like that.