Dear neighbours,
I honestly don't care that you smoke marijuana in your apartment. I do too on occasion. That's not the issue. What's got me bitching is that the current batch that you've got smells like you cut it with dog shit and rolled it in decaying salmon skin. Holy mother of god, it's rank. Time to switch suppliers. Please. Weed should not smell like that! —Eyes watering and breathing through my mouth

Look, I've bummed my share of smokes. I used to give out one or two. But despite the public all thinking I'm a fat public servant, I can't afford it anymore. I don't mind someone asking, but if I say no, don't ask for the butt. It's disgusting. I'm on a smoke break and won't get another for a few hours, so I'm smoking it. And quite frankly I don't want to hang out with you on one of my only two 15 minute breaks while you wait for it. And what's with the rude responses when I say no? One person actually responded "I hope you choke on that butt." You know what? If someone's gonna choke on it, it's me, because I bought it. The tax hike last year alone means I balanced your fucking provincial budget for you. That's enough! —Smokers balanced the budget, not Stephen McNeil