I Only Beat Her When She Deserves It

I am going to attempt to describe what is happening right now. Let's just be clear: it's 4am on a TUESDAY night. I am up reading because I don't have a job right now. Here is what I'm not doing: waking up the entire neighborhood with drunken escapades bordering on domestic abuse.

One of the "women" next door is having a "conversation" with her "boyfriend." It might be 4.5 Drinks and Rat-A-Tat. I'm not going to look out the window because I don't like bullets, but our side door is open, so I can hear a lot. Regardless, as far as I can tell, he is repeatedly trying to leave in his truck and has been repeatedly told (by her) to leave in his truck. Sounds simple, right? Both parties seem to want to achieve the same end result via the same means. Incorrect.

Each time he starts the ignition, he turns it off after a few seconds. This has happened NO LESS than 10 times with cursing intermittent. I'm still trying to piece together what exactly is happening, but from the way he is shouting, "You psycho bitch!" after each time he starts his truck, I'm assuming she is doing something brilliant like standing in front of his truck. She is occasionally shouting things like, "Fucking Answer Me!" until he gets out of his car and probably places her elsewhere, after which her shouting becomes, "Fine, Leave!". The instant the ignition starts up again, she is in front of the truck again like the eternal stumbling block she is.

I actually got pretty scared at one point and even had to put my bookmark in my book (after many months of living next to them, I now just try to read through all commotion). It was when she started gasping like she was being choked and saying she couldn't feel her finger. This probably happened because he accidentally? slammed her finger in the door in one of his multiple escape attempts. This gave her a few rounds of extra sympathy: "[I'm not going to use his real name], look how swollen my finger is!"

She must've really been pie-eyed because I think she forgot about her finger only 2 truck starts later. Besides finger-slamming (which sounds a lot more fun in an altogether separate context), R-A-T experimented with the whiz-bang stratagem of blasting the horn repeatedly. If that doesn't work on deer, I don't understand why it would work on a drunk hooker with kids who are, by the way, "sleeping" in the house at this point. He tried the horn thing 3 times (each time blasting it at least a half dozen times) just in case there was anyone in the neighborhood who was still asleep.

Eventually she gave up and he left successfully. Well at least he's not drunk driving. Jesus.

I'd Be Interested To Hear What Jim Cantore Has To Say

With high temperatures in the 80s and 1Prime vacated this weekend, the neighbors will probably see fit to pull out all the proverbial stops in pursuit of abject hilarity.  A Bonnaroo of Absurdity will commence, with much of the same hygienic practices usually reserved for Tennessee being observed on the other side of the fence.

I consumed 14 oatmeal raisin cookies to reach a level of Nirvana whereby I would be able to accurately predict what will transpire this weekend.  Without any further ado:

-they will curse at their progeny

-random automobiles will arrive at all hours of the day and/or night

-pets will bark, yip, yelp and/or bray repeatedly

-they will "Get their Goose on"

-Wolfgang's Speaker Bedroom will broadcast some of the finest Top 40 hip-pop music known to mankind

-Helga will quit smoking ...hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah

::wheeze::

hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

-they will film a porno remake of the movie "Alive," subtitled "Eat This Meat."

Back on Sunday afternoon to once again carry the cumbersome torch of Neighborly Observation.  Maybe they'll cut our grass.

Home Entertainment Center

This morning I was woken up at 10:30 by music blasting at a ridiculous volume from the boyfriend’s truck. This is the kind of volume that can be heard clearly in every direction for a couple blocks’ radius. Even more so because this is a quiet family neighborhood and I don’t think anyone told them that: they are neither quiet, nor a family in anything but the very loosest of definitions (similar to the boyfriend’s muscular definition).

I think my window is actually a speaker wired to his truck. I even brought a friend into my room and he agreed that there was nowhere in the house where the music was louder than in my bed (yes I made him lie in my bed and yes that is how I get guys into my bed and yes he did enjoy it). This might be because the window might be open behind the blinds, but I’m afraid to open them because if I make eye contact I may turn to stone.

So why listen to music from your parked truck in the driveway? The only thing I can think of is that maybe they forgot how to get back into the house. Or maybe they “read” somewhere that playing the radio in a parked truck will actually refuel the vehicle based on the decibel level. Maybe they are under the impression that by contributing to noise pollution, surely that must detract from other types of pollution. There’s got to be a cap on the overall pollution of the Earth, so it stands to reason that if you really indulge in one type it must lessen the others. Apparently, later on in the day, they did figure out how to get back into the house because I could hear the music from the house with doors closed.

New Car Smell

A new car has pulled up.  It’s a black Pontiac, driven by a lady who resembles Catherine O’Hara’s character in …well, every Christopher Guest movie she’s been in.  Helga and Codename Catherine cleaning are now in the middle of cleaning out the trunk and piling these "goodies" on the porch.  Let’s take roll call of the contents, shall we?

-one (1) doggy crate for “Doggy”:  Here!

-one (1) white colander with one (1) yellow rubber duckie and one (1) mixing spoon:  Here!

-one (1) jewelry box with clock (set to wrong time):  yo!

-shoe box with any number of narcotics contained therein:  …what? (mumbles) Oh.  Here.

-salt ‘n’ pepper shake set:  Here!

Did they rob a bag lady?  Either way, I’m out of here for the rest of the weekend.  Wolfgang, you have the bridge.

Domestic Cars Masquerading As Imports

The broke-ass Jeep Cherokee putters menacingly up the driveway after a prolonged absence.  I greet it like an old friend and give kisses on either cheek, or in this case, either fender.

(I will spend the next five minutes cleaning up the Kraft Asian Toasted Sesame Reduced Fat Salad Dressing all over the rug after my mad dash to the window.  Don’t tell Wolfgang.)

WHAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!?!?!?!

One of the little girls climbs into the driver’s seat of the tan sedan and begins to play, mimicking the action of twisting the steering wheel.  Next, I hear her disengage the parking brake.  I’m fully invested in this drama now and am posted at the window as the car begins to coast down the driveway.  The little girl is screaming her head off!  Her tiny larynx is pushed to the limit!!  I’m glued to my spot, jaw agape.

....

....

Until…  

!!!!

!!!!

The tan sedan sedately comes to rest against the metal fence between our yards.  Thankfully (Unfortunately?) it didn't roll all the way down the driveway and into the middle of the street.  

If I had to categorize my feelings on a MySpace profile right now, I’d list my mood as "Terror Mingled With Curiosity."  And then I'd kill myself, because I'd have MySpace.

DWI (Driving While Ignorant)

Our long national nightmare is over as the tan sedan drives down the driveway. Or careens wildly. Your choice.

Really?!

Somebody just pulled up on a motorcycle.

I repeat: somebody just pulled up on a motorcycle.

As If Teaching Them To Curse Pre-Pubescently Wasn't Enough...

While finishing up work for the day, the tan sedan returns with one of the little girls steering while sitting on the lap of Codename Helga. That’s probably safe.

Hmf.

Did Codename Helga have a few too many libations at the brewery???

All Thanks To A Condom Brand Called "None"

A different car from the normal ratty Jeep Cherokee Sport just pulled into the driveway. It looks to be a tan sedan (unintentional rhyme ...or was it?). We just decided that these neighbors of ours need codenames. The woman, who shall remain codename-less (for now) just entered the house with two little girls that we've never seen before. Fuckbeans – they have KIDS. We’re clearly in for it now.

An Exceedingly Legal Disclaimer: Vincent “Wolfgang McSkeeter” McCrink and josho! are not liable for any shenanigans involving little people during any sexy parties hosted at 1Prime (our home).

A Second Exceedingly Legal Disclaimer: Any and all parties hosted at 1Prime are inherently unsexy; in fact, they are rather drab.

I Should Be Asleep By Now

Today, I witnessed our neighbors coming and/or going in their automobile four times while Vinny “Wolfgang McSkeeter” McCrink noticed 3 separate excursions. They have driven their car up and down the driveway a grand total of 7 times in one twelve hour period; this begs the question: W. T. F. (neighbor)? Where are they going? What sort of riff-raff are they engaging in?

I don't think I'll be able to compose myself enough to fall asleep tonight. My brain is abuzz with all sorts of possibilities about where these weirdos are going.

In no particular order:

-a local renaissance festival

-a silent auction of silent movies

-a meeting with their Witness Protection Program advisor

-a "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie" reenactment (psst! They're Foot Soldiers!!)