fat hawaiian women hate me
I moved into a new place about a week ago. The landlady went over to my old place earlier today, and a fat Hawaiian woman who lived about three houses down waddled over to her and said, "You have to start screening your tenants more carefully. That last guy was really spooky. He was a white supremist."
"He's not a white supremist," my landlady told her. "I've known him for years. He's a nice guy."'
"No, he's a WHITE SUPREMIST!" Queen Lilliuokalani insisted. She went on to implicate herself in BURNING DOWN the house right next to the one I was renting, which (until today) was an unsolved crime. "I warned that guy, too. And look what happened to his house. You REALLY need to screen your tenants more carefully."
Mind you, I never shared two words with this woman. I'd never even SEEN her—the idea that she's a "fat Hawaiian woman" comes strictly from my landlady's description. And I highly doubt anyone in the neighborhood had any idea of my identity—I hadn't been there long enough, and the only contact I'd had with anyone was to say "Hi" to the next-door neighbor (on the side that wasn't burnt down) once or twice.
But the big jiggly Pineapple Turd sees a white guy with a shaved head, and she starts threatening hate crimes. Unbelievable.
The world is upside-down. And the reason I write is to turn it right-side-up. Join me, will you? I'm having trouble lifting it all by myself.
