Addition by Subtraction

NEW CAR: a silver 1998 Honda Civic with Pennsylvania tags. This could be old news, but I just got home from ten days away.

Also: I got home to find Wolfgang dressed in all black and wearing eyeliner.

I will never leave home again.

Disssappointment

josho! pointed out that I misspelled "disappointment" in the previous post. I explained to him that when you are extra disappointed, that is the correct spelling.

Major Dissapointment / No Real Surprise

Well they didn't show. And they didn't call. I'm pretty relieved.

josho! & I assume they didn't show because they were already fighting over the apartments even though neither of them have any chance of getting them. What really surprises me is how they expect me to rent to them when I've had a front row seat to their snow-globe Gomorrah for the past year. We (very, very, very) briefly considered having them move in for hilarity's sake of the blog, but evictions are neither cheap nor timely. I've more seriously considered a vasectomy.

If they call back, I don't know if I should use that opportunity to nix it or "give them another chance." Probably the latter.

So here is some more information that I recently found out about their loving and caring relationship with their current landlord. There had been a "For Rent" sign on the porch of their building for awhile and then one day it was gone. My mother told me it showed up a week later, bent in half and discarded into a huge snowbank that the snow-plows had created (the snowbank was half a block up the street in front of a neighbor who is very good friends with my mom).

ATTENTION: SNOW BANKS MELT.

About another half block past that snowbank there are literally dozens of miles of woods where you could dispose of a Sherman tank full of children and licorice and the closest they'd come to finding it would be 8 years later when they would wonder why so many small-boned animals died in the same area. Licorice poisoning. It's real and it's coming for you, Hank. Fairmount Park is "one of the largest urban parks in the country,"* and it starts about a block away from our apartment buildings but HIDE IT IN THE SNOW BANK 6 HOUSES DOWN.





*http://www.fairmountpark.org/AboutFairmountPark.asp

Insert 'Shawshank' Joke Here

On a recent jaunt to my parked car, which was stationed up the hill from 1Prime, I happened to fall into step with Five Drinks who was also engaged in the same task.

We didn't make eye contact, nor did she recognize me as the more hairy and handsome of her two next door neighbors (probably because I was never approached to mow their lawn). As I reached my car, I broke off to cross the street. Five Drinks continued up the side walk towards her sedan.

I craned my neck to the left to get one more look, and, instead of turning into a pillar of salt, I got a chance to read the back of her black zip-up windbreaker:

DEPARTMENT

of
CORRECTIONS

(it read)

The Neighbors Want To Move.....HERE

No updates in awhile? Sorry, off uncovering the secrets of 9-11. You let me know if keeping you safe at night isn’t more important than this blog. You let me know.

Back to things. Let me tell you how it started. I am the landlord of this building and I’m trying to rent the apartments upstairs. Among other things, I have a “For Rent” sign outside with my number on it. I got a call this morning from someone asking about the apartment. Pretty normal; I get a couple calls about it everyday.

Except it’s Helga.

Me: “Hi…..”
Her: “Hi…..”
Me: “Hi…..”

First of all: if you call someone else, YOU need to be the one to explain why you are calling. Contrary to what you (read: she) may have gleaned from popular culture, you DO NOT have to wait for me to say, “Can I help you?” or “How may I direct your call today?” Was she expecting an automated system? Did I confuse her by being a person? If so, it probably reminded her of the first time she peed a child.

Eventually we got around to dialogue. At first, I just thought it was someone random calling about the apartment. Then she drops this knowledge bomb on me:

Her: “Oh, I actually live right next door.”
Me: “Oh…..[mild shock/panic starts to set in]…..what floor?”
Her: “First."
Me: “Oh. OK [now eyes bulging and I am attacking josho! at his desk trying to get him to understand while frantically motioning out the window].”
Her: “Do you live on the first floor?”
Me: “[Grudgingly]….Yes.”
Her: “Oh, OK, I think I’ve met you [“Oh, OK, I think you write a blog about me and say terrible things about me and my Nazi youth league friends”]."
Her: “Do your light switches work?”
Me: “What?”
Her: “Do your light switches work?.....Like when you turn them on?"
Me: “Yes.”

She went on to explain how her landlord doesn’t fix things. I should have just told her "No": "No, the light switches don't work. In fact, nothing over here works. Actually, it's not even an apartment really - more like a big empty pit. Like the kind you might find dinosaurs in." Instead I simply assured her that apartment was entirely with electricity: something that has become extremely popular in 2010.

So I told her that I can show her the apartment at 7 pm on Thursday (which is today). She said OK. Then she said, “Wait, today is Thursday.” Dammit. Couldn’t get that one by her. In truth, I was so mind-flustered that I forgot what day it was. We shared a brief chuckle and then scheduled the showing for 7 pm on Friday (tomorrow). Then we hung up and I collapsed on the floor.


THERE ARE STILL MORE THINGS AHEAD.


As I’m lying on the floor and going over the conversation with josho!, I got another call. This happened 7 minutes after I received the initial call (I checked the time), so I immediately worried that it was Helga calling back because she'd forgotten to ask if the apartment had running water or more than 2 walls. I steeled my nerve (it's a word: buy a dictionary) and glanced at the phone. *Whew!* It was a different number.

I picked up the phone. It was another woman.

She mentioned that she lives next door to me. "First floor?" "First floor." It’s Five Drinks.

How is this even possible? For a split second, I consider the possibility that someone was playing a joke on me. Upon a further think, I dismissed that idea because (a) josho! or anyone else wouldn’t have had the nerve to interact with them at such a close range without first checking with CDC and getting a variety of immunizations and probably some psych training too and (b) The Neighbors themselves certainly weren't capable of such a premeditated, multi-step plan (unless they really are spies like we’ve sometimes surmised).

I mentioned to her that I just got a call from there: “Your…..roommate [I chose not to refer to her as the loud, abusive, delusional fatty who chases the sun away whenever she comes outside] must’ve just called me.” Now here is where it gets interesting. Five Drinks ignored that comment and went on about how she’s going to be living alone. She even stressed that she would be "just by herself" and that she has a steady job and can afford it [josho! will go into more detail about her job].

This raises a number of questions. Was Helga aware of this call? Did Five Drinks call because Helga had just called? Are Five Drinks and Helga on the outs? The winter has been pretty quiet (except for a couple incidents that will one day be posted), so josho! & I concluded that some element of their former lifestyle has been removed. Did Rat-A-Tat vacate/get his ponytail stuck in his chopper? Did they finally eat Doggy? Did the girls get shipped off to boarding school (or juvie as would more likely be the case)? Will I accidentally call Helga "Helga" and Five Drinks "Five Drinks" when I SHOW THEM THE APARTMENT THAT I HAVE NO INTENTION OF RENTING THEM TOMORROW?

I scheduled to show Five Drinks the apartment right after Helga (7:30 pm so I get in enough time with Helga beforehand - I'm probably the first person to want to get in "enough time" with her). Tune in this weekend for the (probably boring and anti-climactic) results!

I hope Helga brings Calamity Jane.

Pulling The Trigger?

This Just In: Vinny lost two pounds while showering.

In a related story, I won the scale as a door prize.

Par-tay!!!!

hijackedxxxed! !!!111111!!!!!!!kekekekeek What up bitches!

Kimber and Daesy-Sue Wilcox here!!!!!!~~~<3 <3 <3

It's birthday time in neighborland; an epic joining 8 yearold chicas and business professionals. Hollla! What what.

Travel the world and the seven seas. Some of them want to use you . Yes bitches. Drink!!!

oooooohhhhhh ahahhahahahaha hheeyeyeyeye ahahhaha

effect lighting

whoam ia do disagreee

one of the writers of this blog has a striking resemblance to AH....

um. hi there.

Codename Helga was just on her cell phone discussing the Swine AIDS.

And she sounded surprised to hear about the budding epidemic. Like today was the first time she ever heard of it.

In a related story, Wolfgang is microwaving leftover hot dogs from Sunday. Another day in paradise.

Visions Of Penis

I'm pretty surprised that this didn't happen until now, but it has finally happened, so I will write about it.

For some reason, our bathroom is set up so that the only window is directly behind the toilet. Furthermore, this window is positioned at such a height so that only the central region of the standing individual can be seen. I.E.: if you are urinating in a male position, the only thing visible through the window is your bishop. This window also happens to directly face their sideporch door. Somehow, this has never been a problem before, or at least they haven't said anything about it.

Ironically, it was one of our friends who actually got yelled at for such a display. As "The Zahn" was peeing, he heard the screen door open and one of the women shouted, "Close the window!". Luckily, The Zahn is used to such comments, so he was barely fazed. It's still makes me pretty giddy thinking about them opening up their screen door and just seeing a facefull of peeing cock illuminated against the otherwise pitch black sideporch. Maybe now they know what it feels like to see 5 Drinks dance in "shorts" (read: a jean material g-string). That's right, it's like seeing a facefull of dick.

Spoken Too Soon

I would like to clarify the last post. It's not that the neighbors aren't doing anything ridiculous (right now they are blasting the radio from the truck again and having a kiddie pool party with Calamity Jane intermittenly screaming her brains out); it's just that they haven't done anything new. After living next to them so long, their antics are becoming stale. They just repeat the same tommyrot over and over again. I'm not going to post for the eighth time that 5 Drinks is wearing gross shorts and attempting to dance with her children (because right now she is). Posts will occur when something post-worthy occurs or some new revelation concerning the mystery of our neighbors strikes us.

Where are they?

Hey guys sorry there hasn't been a post in awhile. I'm not sure if there are even any loyal readers left at this point.

I wanted to explain why we haven't been posting. All of a sudden a few weeks ago the neighbors became almost normal. I no longer saw all of them out on the porch before heading off to work and saw them again as I returned twelve hours later. There are no longer screaming phone conversations on the porch or late night drunk driving excursions. The young girls don't frolic in the kiddie pool without any visible adult supervision.

In fact, if I had moved in three weeks ago I would have thought that Wolfgang and JoshO were making up all their posts.

My only theory as to why this has begun to occur is that somehow the neighbors have managed to make some friends and they now spend all their time over there increasing the dysfunctionality and volume level in some other neighborhood in this fair city.

However, we shall remain ever vigilant and will report the next noteworthy event as soon as it occurs. Hang in there internet, unlike regular trash, white trash never gets picked up at the curb.

Uluy

Here I am sitting at my desk browsing BBC.co.uk (read: searching for porn), and I hear some guy over there say, "Ugly...U-L-U-Y?". In case I thought I had imagined it, he then repeated it (again to no response). Maybe they didn't have time for "G" in his elementary class? They certainly spent ample time on the vowels - even the less popular ones. That's what education is all about: efficiency and practicality in teaching. There are a lot more "U"s than "G"s out there...it's a big world.

I also like to imagine that he was writing to his pen pal and he wanted to make sure he had all the spelling perfect because he didn't want to embarrass himself. It would be a good idea for him to use someone just learning English as a second language - that way if he does something wrong, not only will they not notice, but they will think it's correct and use it themselves. Our Neighbors: Polluting English one foreigner at a time. Here is an idea of how the letter went:

Jus had too rite quike noote abot last night theer wuz dis uluy bitch triing two get in my dick but i told her too FUCK OF!!!!!!!!! Yeah! hop u god.

Love, Simon [that's his pseudonym]

P.S. I sumtims dreem abot u.

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.

Would It Be Possible for Any of Them to Eat a Salad From Time to Time?

On a recent jaunt into Thrilladelphia, I popped by 1Prime to exchange worn tee-shirts for new ones and pick up mail. I had a few interesting items in my pile, but mostly it was bills: power bill, gas bill ...houseboat bill.

(I expect one person to pick up on that reference and his dick is self-described as "awesome.")

To further promote the idea that I am a secret agent to the greater neighborhood, I donned reflective aviators the size of a training brassiere before heading up the sidewalk. As I traipsed up the familiar concrete steps, I noticed a NEW lady on The Neighbors' porch. I will have to consult with Suzie and Wolfgang (who actually may be dead, because I didn't see either of them during my brief stay) but I would like to christen her Codename: The Innertube, due to the tremendous jelly roll of belly fat emerging from her black tank top.