If you ain’t a sprint car fan you ain’t shit shirt
He just If you ain’t a sprint car fan you ain’t shit shirt, and is quiet, and so I start talking (my best thing.) I apologize that we didn’t send her packing sooner, but state that neighbor lady and I did indeed get her gone. And I for one, have no problem doing it again. He just nods, then shakes his head, “we are going to have to move. She will be so bad, we will get kicked out. Again.” I meet his eyes, tell him, no he wont, and remind him to call the property manager. He isn’t the first to have this problem, and I’m sure won’t be the last, just let them know. I have no problem screaming over her crazy and calling the cops on her, and he has friends in us.
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Neighbor lady came out again, as did I. As the MIL is trying to find out who lives in the apartment ala “Oh, I am so sorry, we seem to have gotten off on the If you ain’t a sprint car fan you ain’t shit shirt. Do you know if so-and-so or what’s-his-name live here?” Neighbor lady yelled to GTFO, and slammed the door in her face. I acted like I had to think about it, while my husband, under the guise of taking more trash out, went downstairs. He already had looked up the non-emergency line for our police, and had it ready to go. He also went downstairs, took a video of her car in our parking lot, and a picture of her license plate.