Let me get this straight. You've relied on help from my mother since you stupidly popped out a kid you couldn't care for when you were fifteen years old. She's given you money, helped raise your oldest child, helped you find a job and even let you live with her when you were going through some hard times. Of course she did all of this selflessly, she is your sister after all. After your divorce you met a guy who lavished you with gifts but was a real sleaze bag. You brought him to my mother's place, introduced them, even went on lots of outings together. My mother doesn't like the guy but she says nothing because she just wants you to be happy. After a few months you sit down with my mother and tell her how poorly this guy treats you; how he's possessive, jealous and has a bad temper. Finally, after several of these conversations, you tell her you broke up. My mother, in support of you, openly agreed that the way he treated you was not what you deserved. Sure, she used some select, colourful language to describe him but what woman wouldn't?

Then my mom comes home one day and finds the sleazy dude in your shared house. She quickly learns that you got back together. Knowing what she knows about the guy, she remains polite but keeps him at arms' length. He runs back to you and says my mom is being a total dick to him. Without taking the time to check with my mom you storm in, have words with her and then cut her out of your life. Furthermore, you start spreading nasty rumours about her to your mutual friends.

WTF!? If you want to date a guy who is on the path to being your abusive husband who likely will end up killing you out of jealousy, that's fine! Nobody said you couldn't. But who the fuck do you think you are to treat my mother, YOUR ONLY SISTER, like some second-class citizen after everything that she has done for you?! When you and I end up having a conversation after all of this happens and I probe to see if there is a way to smooth this over you indicate that if she apologizes then maybe you'd consider it. Are you out of your damned mind? You are a foolish, manipulative bitch and I hope that when the day comes that you need my mom's help again, and you will, that she tells you to blow it up your enormous ass!! —I Wish I Could Punch You in Your Whore Mouth

You know, just because you have an opinion about something doesn't mean you're right and I'm automatically an asshole for thinking differently. If you took your head out of your own ass for five minutes and paid attention to the world around you, you might realize that you're a close-minded, immature, selfish mama's boy who needs a reality check. I would think that having lived for almost thirty years would give you enough life experience to be able to have a disagreement with someone without taking everything so god damned personally.

Oh and by the way, I'm glad you enjoy the deeply disturbing relationship you have with your mother because it will likely be the only "meaningful" relationship you have for a very long time. —Dodged That Bullet

I enjoy reading LTWWB. It's a great outlet for people to let off some steam but it's also an interesting forum to learn about varying sides of issues and debates. Hell, sometimes I change my view on things based on the thought-provoking posts and comments I read on here. That being said, it really irks me that the comment threads are dominated by people who can't seem to make their point with insulting other people and their arguments. Not everyone does this but there are an awful lot of 'regular' commenters out there who go from zero to sixty and absolutely attack people with opinions different from theirs. Do you realize that getting offensive and ignorant causes your actual point to be lost? You know it is possible to have a healthy debate without resulting to rude, profanity-filled commentary. I'm not asking that we all hold hands and sing Kumbaya but a moderate sense of decorum and, I dunno, maturity, would go a long way. —Regular LTWWB Reader

It seems that the elected nitwits, councillors, have given up in ever getting the $360,000 back from whoever scarpered with it. I watched the council meeting that supposedly dealt with this, Kelly wasn't there this time, unlike when he chaired the previous meetings when the defecation hit the ceiling fan. It appears that WTCC, the city and the concert promoter are in some legally protected enclave whereby nobody can sue anyone to recover the money. Kelly sails off to Bedford in October to enjoy his $75,000 per year pension, some, sadly not all, incompetent councillors get turfed and we the taxpayers get to pick up the tab and hopefully elect some competent folks (Obama's favourite word, folks). —Bee Bop Aloola

Don't you hate it, when you buy a new phone, and it's broken three months later? I swear these stupid cell phone companies make shitty phones on purpose, so that if you drop it ONCE, it automatically never works again, and then you have to get a new one. I'm so sick of paying extreme amounts of money for these stupid phones. All I fucking want is to stay in contact with my partner and my family while on the go. Is that too much to ask? God, I hate technology, I just wish I could live without it, but it's like a lifeline. It sneaks up on you and gets you both ways. FUCK. —FU

I am rather weary of life in Nova Scotia, and I suppose North America in general. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with the fact I have to leave forever, to take off from the cold, lonely shores, inhospitable to the weak of mind such as myself. I never saw it as a necessity, until recently.

I almost saw myself coming back here, settling back in with my old friends. I've no doubt things would be much the same as I left them, regardless of the amount of time passed. But now it's quite clear I have to leave this pile of collected dirt and stones behind, and the "party" lifestyle everyone here seems to espouse. It seems to be how everyone here copes with the stress of living here, though, incidentally it doesn't seem to be helping them. I'm aware there are plenty of people here who are not like this, but I haven't met any who weren't complete assholes.

Maybe, just maybe, with luck's grace, in a remote village across the sea, working for room and board, everything will start to come together for me. If I become fit and healthy enough, nigh impossible for me here considering the cost of everything, if I take away as many of the overbearing stimuli found in modern societies, I can unlock the inner hunter. The brilliant predator within. The calculating stalker, with his eyes on but the prize and nothing else.

I am the predator. But I am dazed and confused by the bright neon lights. Their allure has strayed me from my path, and now I'm lost, wandering, following lights which were never meant to be followed. —And Goodbye

I need to know why you must park in front of my house. You have a perfectly lovely home next door with TONS of your own yard to park in front of, not to mention a driveway that can more than accommodate your car. Over the last year this has really eaten away at me. I asked you not to park in front of my house for a few weeks as I was going to have guests coming and going. You observed my request for a week---then back to parking in front of my house. I just need to know WHY?! —Park Your Shit Elsewhere

Aw, co-worker, I don’t know how to say this---we don’t avoid you because we dislike you, but you are kind of gross. You can be heard eating from the next room, and you eat everything with your hands (tuna?! chicken salad?! Arrgh your hands are covered in saliva!), and your hygiene is atrocious. I feel like I need a hazmat suit to be around you. You’re so concerned with making friends but can’t seem to grasp that people flee when you start mowing into something or touching things with your spit-hands. You are unfortunately every one of my pet peeves and I just want to avoid you because I get queasy. You’re not a bad person or anything, but clean the fuck up. —Bubble Boy

To the woman at the grocery store who couldn't fucking read and follow the instructions on how to use the Interac machine and gave the fast lane cashier such a hard time, fuck you. You swore at her, and then ripped the receipt out of her hands as if she was playing some cruel joke on you by fucking with the machine, but you were just too stupid to follow the instructions. Again, fuck you. —Former Employee

To the guy at the gym who seems to think that oozing pools of sweat onto the floor beneath his stationary bike from within the slimy confines of his rubber workout suit and hoody is a mark of achievement to be shared with fellow gym-goers, think again. It's just plain wrong. It's off-putting and unhygienic and a slip-and-fall accident waiting to happen. YOU know you're sweating, YOU know your workout is working, is it really necessary to share it with the rest of us? Put a towel down! You've taken the rudeness of bodily fluids to a new level. —Gag Me With Your Sweat