Three thirty a.m., time for one of the three dogs upstairs to start chasing his bowling ball across the hardwood floor. The more I now ignore the idiot that owns the dogs, the more he waves at me and says hello. What a stupid fucker. I tried to play the pleasant neighbor, "oh hello, how are you game," while his dogs were doing whatever the fuck they pleased, at my expense, but once this dooshbag told me that, "there was nothing he could do," about his dogs waking me up every morning between three thirty and five thirty a.m. and barking, for hours, while he was gone, the gig was up. He was saying "fuck you," my dogs are going to party. And he wonders why I turn my back to him and shoot him the bird when he goes, "Mikel. Mikel. Hello." What a dumb fucking ass. He's got buddhist plastered everywhere, so, I guess, that everyone will know that he's a buddhist. He's an advertising buddhist. Buddhist, my ass. Kiss my ass, mother fucker.