Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Why I Love Geoff/Why I Hate My Neighbors

I can't tell you enough about how much I hate our neighbors.

Okay, let me be more specific: I hate the neighbors who live 2 doors down from us. I think there's about 5 people living there -- all in various stages of lung cancer -- and none of them work.

The way the units are positioned mean that anytime they're out front smoking (all day long), the cigarette smoke goes into our condo. Thank you, God, for giving us wonderfully cool fall days so that I can open my windows and get second degree smoke blown (no, not up my ass) into my kitchen!

Note: I'm basically a libertarian when it comes to individual rights, but that includes that I do not have the right to smell your cigarettes. You wanna smoke? Do it inside your house or inside your car where nobody else has to smell it. That's where your freedom should end, m-fer. I'm sorry. It's true.

As my former boss said: "Cigarettes are bad, but they just don't kill people fast enough".

I'm not going to lie to you at all, either, when I say that the people we formerly thought were HOMELESS decided a few months ago to come and convene in the driveway of our neighbors every day from 8 - 6 (arriving via bus!) to hang out with said neighbors. One of them is in a motorized wheelchair and she is always carrying a fly swatter.

A goddamned fly swatter, people.

The other one (her son? husband? foster child?) weighs about 400 lbs (I am not kidding -- I watch The Biggest Loser and I know what people weigh) waddles alongside her when she whizzes into the shared drive. One day I came home from my hairdresser, with a wonderfully-smelling new head of blown-out hair to see him sitting -- shirtless -- in a teeny wooden chair in the driveway.

My hair smelled like b.o. for the rest of the day after that incident. I am not kidding you.

So you can imagine my excitement yesterday when I got a flyer on my car letting me know that our Homeowners' Association is planning a yard sale for the entire complex.

Oh. Joy. I mean, I've been just WAITING to have a reason to socialize with my neighbors while they fondle my goods. (No, not that kind of fondling -- I charge extra for that -- not yard sale prices)

The notice included the "request" that people don't park IN THEIR OWN DRIVEWAYS and what-not to encourage "customer parking" and also included some information about a complex-wide barbecue afterward!

What a great idea -- getting food poisoning from some shitty (and no doubt undersalted and over-mayonnaised) warm green salad at the hand of my neighbors who (as far as I can tell) collect social security while just sitting outside and smoking all day while my husband goes to work to pay taxes to support their non-working lazy and cigarette-smoking asses. YOU'RE WELCOME, JERKS!

Now, we have a LOT of stuff in our garage that needs to be sold and we've kind of been holding off making a decision about what to do with all of it (who wants a 9 year old Sony TV? broken stainless steel trash can, anyone? candle-burn singed coffee table?! what about a papasan chair? terrarium that formerly housed a pet toad? what about a dozen books about trout?). So this garage sale, in theory, would be a great way for us to get rid of that stuff and earn some cash that I could use to buy booze in order to tolerate the fact that my condo smells like cheap cigarettes anytime I open the window for fresh air.

Of course we'd want to participate if either of us were normal and actually wanted to interact with our ohsweetlordIhatethemsomuch neighbors.

So yesterday when I told Geoff about the notice (dreading him saying "Hey! What a GREAT way to get rid of some stuff and meet our neighbors!"), he said:

"Ugh, maybe we can go out of town that weekend or something".

1 comment:

Kyle Johnson said...

Rule for Geoff! Also, this weekend, we drink!