Winnie the pooh crap

I forgot to tell you about my yard sale encounter while I was looking for a car seat. At yard sales, you can bet, there are always car seats, exercise bikes, readers digest condensed hard backs and some Winnie The Fucking Pooh shit. That Pooh shit is always bought by some well meaning person who thinks they're going to get their kid to LOVE the Pooh. It never happens. There are actually only three kids in the world who know who Pooh is. Or give two poos about Pooh. They're probably Asian or brainwashed. Pooh makes me think of Casey Anthony now. That's enough about her.

My DIL is one of those Pooh people. She tried to foist it off on Lis, but, Lis told her to stuff it. She wants Sponge Bob, Hannah, Justin Beaver, Wizards, Harry Potter, Carly, Phinneas and Pherb..or anything BUT Pooh. And I don't blame her. Who the fuck is Pooh? He's over 50 and can't remember his pants. I have no fond memories of Pooh. I don't give two craps about Pooh.

But...some skank at the yard sales did. She was obviously a meth head, she was scrawny, dirty, had lank oily black hair and pasty face and rotten teeth. I was looking in a box of Gabe age toys and she nearly pushed me to the ground, no kidding, I actually dropped what I was looking at, caught my balance and looked at her. Pooh Skank was going for the old Pooh stuffed toys. They were in the free box by my feet. She pissed me off. I moved away.

She came at me again in the book section. Like she can read, right? There was some Pooh book in with the paperbacks and like an eagle to a mouse, she honed in on it as if she was gifted with Pooh radar. This time she stepped on my toe. I looked at her and said, really? This time she mumbled, sorry. Her breath smelled like peach schnapps and dog shit.

I left, but, as I passed the driveway, I peeked in her clunker. It was filled with raggedy dirty Pooh crap, Mountain Dew cans and McDonald's wrappers. Whatever...Pooh Skank. At the next yard sale, what did I see, but, a dirty filthy fly specked GIANT Pooh. I couldn't help myself. I grabbed it and waited. Sure enough, her clunker pulled in right behind me. She spotted me, and nasty giant Pooh, and she flipped out.

Are you gonna buy that Pooh? Is there only one Pooh?? I'll give you double for that Pooh! ....she acted like I'd snorted the last line at an Ozzy concert. I just kept strolling around, looking, with Pooh. I thought she'd have a shit hemorrhage. She was actually wringing her hands and wild eyed. I said, you must have little one's, huu? Nope. She just loves Pooh. She wants to do her whole house in Pooh and isn't that cool? Maybe a Pooh mural..or two. Pooh kitchen cabinets. Pooh bathroom.

Finally, I had enough of her. I gave her the damn Pooh. I wanted to wash my hands, that thing was so filthy it was black in places. I thought she'd cry, but, I think the crank dried up her tear ducts. I hate grown women who love Pooh. It's fucking stupid. FUCK YOU, Pooh skanks.

Don't even get me started on Hello Kitty. It's a circle with two dots. You retarded cartoon whores.