Dear Snoop Dogg,

I heard that your friend is in the process of getting evicted. I'm really sorry to hear it. Even though you don't live in the complex and have absolutely no right to not follow the rules of the community, I'll really miss you.

I'll miss your gold teeth, your charming ensembles of wife beater tees and pants that ride below your butt. I'll miss your beat up, gangsta car, with its positively-illegal radar detection/cop intervention device on the dash, and how low it sits to the ground.

I'll miss how you attempted to recreate the set of Sanford and Son that one day, complete with your friends working on cars and drinking beer in the parking lot. I'll miss your yelling and hollering, and how on Saturday night at 1 a.m. I could tell you were home given how loud your car stereo was playing.

I will also miss how you and your friends decided that the parking lot was a perfectly reasonable hang out spot for 7 hours on Saturday, although I wonder if it was uncomfortable sitting in the driver seat for so long. It's a good thing you kept moving back and forth between the seats!!

But really, I will most miss that day that the cops told Pete to stay inside for his own safety, as you were attempting to evade police. You can't put a price on memories like that, Snoop.

My only hope is that you'll bring the same joy to the next community you mooch off.

With affection,

Heather