Who are the budding criminals in your neighbourhood?

I'm pleased to say that I am still feeling significantly better than I have the last few weeks. I'm well aware that depression is a cruel mistress and can come back to scratch my face and boil the family rabbit at any time, but so far the restraining order I filed against her seems to be working. That crazy bitch can take her ice pick and go elsewhere.

... Wait. That was a different movie. A movie with no panties. A naughty movie.

One of the great things about breathing in some happy is that I'm finding stuff funny again. Not in a manic way where one might laugh at a car accident or something terribly unfunny, but in slightly more appropriate stuff that makes me want to write a blog post. For example: graffiti.

Being a writer, I react strongly to the poor use of language. If I'm in a bad mood, I scowl and point my Mavenly finger at the defilement in question. Double negatives, for example. I ain't got no time for those unless they're in rock lyrics. A surefire way to get a laugh at parties is to casually slip a double negative into conversation and watch me wince as I try to find my happy place again.

If I'm in a good mood, however, I find bad English ridiculously amusing. If it happens to be scrawled upon a wall and I just happen to have my trusty smartphone with me, I will take a picture of the crime scene so we can make fun of it together. I'm nice like that.

Now, a bit of a disclaimer: I live in suburbia. This is not urban graffiti which can sometimes pull off the title of art.  This is lame spraying and engraving created by bored, over-priviledged kids who go all emo because their step-daddies didn't buy them the right colour iPod for graduation, those bastards.  Let's look at our first shining example found last night at the park:


Well, I don't know about you, but I'm feeling like I might not want to bump into this pre-teen in the dark. Anybody who smokes at the park and then announces it with a can of paint is terribly badass.

Let me tell you, it was really fun explaining to the boys why someone would A) choose to deliberately breathe carcinogens and/or illegal substances into their systems and then B) choose to commemorate the event on a wall right next to the play structure.

Next up, I bring you to my seven-year-old's school, where we went to shoot some b-ball a few days ago. This is where we found this on a picnic table:


In case you can't quite make this out - and believe me, it took me a while to decode the mysteries of this text - it says

"Jastin Biber eats poo."

I don't really disagree with this statement, to be honest. However, it takes a sharp eye and a great deal of patience to be able to read it.  I just wish it were written properly so that this important message of truth could be shared more readily with the masses. This is where the gift of language is so important, kids.

Last but not least, this steaming pile of cryptic crap was left on a neighbouring schoolyard table:


*Ahem*

Let me try and type this with a straight face.

"Poo lick to weare derdie underpant"

I totally failed at that. I snickered when writing "poo" and was in full blown belly laughs by "underpant."  I could never be a standup comedian.

My best guess is that this is a play on a line in the first Alvin and the Chipmunks live action movie. In one scene, Alvin sings "Dave likes to wear dirty underwear!"

It was pretty funny in the movie.

This graffiti is funny in a different way. It's funny in a disturbing way. Who is Poo, and why does he lick Derdie's underpant? That's disgusting.

It's so poorly written that I want to find out who wrote it and drop by their place with a sympathy card for the parents and a dictionary for the kid. If this child speaks English as their first language, it is time to hire a tutor, stat. If English is new to them, then it's time to have a talk about defiling public places in the child's strongest language.  If you're going to do it, do it right. There's a song about that.

I would very much like to see a higher calibre of graffiti in my neighbourhood. Frankly, I'm a little worried about our future generation. They seem nearly illiterate and/or completely lacking in creativity. When I was in grade 5, I carved stick figures doing rude stuff into a wooden play structure at that same school*, and I am quite sure I spelled "they are doing sexy things" properly.

Read to your kids, folks. Teach them how important language is. Then they can break the law better, like me.

*A teacher at the school heard about my defilement, came by my house and made me not only apologize, but remove my graffiti. Thus was the end of my budding career of petty crime. Now I'm just a mom.


** I had to edit this post twice to fix spelling and grammatical mistakes. Maybe I should just give up and  find a picnic table.