Love Thy Neighbor

Home is where you come to relax and escape the stress of work, right? Your home is your sanctuary or your refuge. I believe in all this and I am trying to fight for it to stay that way.

When we were first looking for houses I got a bit depressed and frustrated as all the houses were out of our budget. Then, I found this one that fit perfectly. We moved in last year and it has become my castle. I take pride in my house (although maybe I should vacuum more often), and I'm in the process of decorating it. The back yard will be getting a face lift this August too.

My home had become my oasis from stress until recently a family or pirates decided to set up camp near me.

Before you get all righteous and say I have no right to complain about my neighbors, lemme describe them to you.

First off, they have two kids - a little boy named Xavier and a little girl (still in diapers) named Mystique. Apparently, there's no correlation to the X-Men. Uh huh, that's what I said. Anyways, lemme continue. The woman (I don't know her name and could give two pieces of poo poo about it) has orange hair. I mean it's orange. It's like crayola color orange! When she talks there's this weird lisp that sounds like her mouth is full of saliva. It's almost like Sylvester the cat from Looney Tunes talking with a husky smokers voice. She ALWAYS wears cut off jeans and this old army green colored cap. Every time I see her, she's got a cigarette hanging from her mouth. You people think I cuss a lot? Honey, I've got nothing on this person. She can cuss like a sailor and carries herself like a guy without the extra appendage.

The guy (don't know his name and don't care to find out) has a deep voice. He's definitely younger than her. He's Mystique's dad (I think). He has a slouch about him when he walks. If he has his back to your left and is facing your right, it's like his body forms the shape of a C with two skinny white legs. Trust me, it's an odd sight to see. Whenever he does wear pants, he hikes them up so far that you can see his white socks (WHERE'S THE FASHION POLICE?!)

Ok, so with those short descriptions in your mind, I shall proceed with my complaining. Our houses aren't that far apart. I'd say they're probably four feet apart at best. To make matters worse, the walls aren't all that sound-proof. So, when my lovely, classy neighbors decide to play their music with the bass up really loud I can hear it in my house. There have been numerous times where we and other neighbors have told these idiots to turn the music down, yet they keep on doing it WITH the kids in the house.

Another problem I'm having is the trash. For the entire month of June, the trash man runs every Monday. The timing is pretty handy when you think about it. Say you have a shindig on Friday night and a whole bunch of trash, ok? The trash man runs on Monday so you won't have to hold on to all that junk for a long time. Anyways, these morons have not put their trash out in about a month (I'd say). So, now I have all these lovely black, shiny crows and the pretty white, grayish sea gulls in my back yard eating and digging into their trash that has scattered all over the place. I came home one day to a dirty diaper sitting in my back yard.

These people should get the Parent of the Year award too. Every time they have their kids in the car, they're speeding down the street (which is just barely wide enough to let one car pass) or they're speeding down the back alley with the bass up loud. How do you think the little kids' ears are going to be? I know the little ones can't help who their parents are, and you don't have to be an Einstein to get the impression that they weren't planned births.

Do you want to know what the real kicker is? With the two innocent kids in the house, there are several of us on the street who think these idiots deal drugs or do drugs out of their house. This past Friday evening, I could've sworn that I heard her say she "smokes one on the way to work." WTF?!

I wonder if I should follow the ten commandments or should I just f them up royally. Being a Catholic I know I'm gonna have to go to confession every day for a year to make up for whatever I do.