Remind me

… never to move to Scottsdale.

[The typical Scottsdale neighbor] moves in, crams all his crap into the garage, parks his car against the traffic and woila closes the front door and you will never see him again, if you are lucky. If you are very lucky he will be quiet, if not (the norm) he will play drums in the garage, a bass, a booming thumping stereo, have his 500 white or Mexican trash friends over for a party every weekend. His kids will drive mini bikes with no muffler for hours on the street followed by dad in his unlicensed quad or even dune buggy, destroying your front lawn and the neighborhood. If you are smart, you call the police on them and forget about it because nothing will change, if you are stupid you ask your “neighbor” to quiet it down and your car, house or (put whatever you like here) will be damaged or you end up threatened and fear for your life and family.

But I might consider Shanghai.

But hear me when I say, should I buy a home anywhere, anytime, I won’t be utilising those rip-off artists I affectionately call those Cunts at Countrywide™.

They have only themselves, and their own sharp practice, to blame for these times. Not that Angelo is complaining, mind you. He’s a lovely shade of orange.

You know the drill: rats, sinking ship, etc. (although comparing Angelo and his hired henchmen to rats is a disservice to rats)


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