After a fairly long respite, you know who was back last night? The fucking recycling poachers, that's who. You know how I know? Because these assholes woke me up at 11:30 last night going through my recycling out front and dropping bottles and shit. These weren't the neighborhood-homeless-guy-with-shopping-cart poachers. These were the organized-group-with-truck poachers. That pisses me off even more, for some reason.
Now, I admit that our recycling can is pretty much a cornucopia of delights for your average recycling poacher, given the number of bottles of wine (and beers, too, I guess) that Super Hot Irish Girlfriend and our associates plow through in an average week. But fuck you for waking me up, and for stealing that shit. SF is looking at a $575 million deficit, and you're not helping.
Now, I admit that our recycling can is pretty much a cornucopia of delights for your average recycling poacher, given the number of bottles of wine (and beers, too, I guess) that Super Hot Irish Girlfriend and our associates plow through in an average week. But fuck you for waking me up, and for stealing that shit. SF is looking at a $575 million deficit, and you're not helping.
So here's what I've come up with. I call it DeathCan!!!
What do you think? That should keep 'em out of there, right?
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