There goes the neighborhood
I can feel my property value dropping already.
I’m out in my nice front lawn yesterday, when these scrotes pull up to the rental house next door for a peek. Two guys, two girls. Two sets of pure white trash.
One of the guys is a skinhead, the other is sporting a mullet; the women both wear half-shirts with belly flab (the infamous “muffin look”) hanging over their jeans.
They’re whooping and hollering as they circle the house and look in the windows. Then they really go ape-shit when they find the hot tub in the back yard.
They get back into their P.O.S. late-model Nissan sedan – and squeal their tires as they leave.
Not the kind of neighbors I’m hoping to have in my quiet little slice of suburbia.
Jump ahead nine hours. So I can’t sleep, right? It’s 2 a.m. and I go out to the couch so as not to wake the wife with my fruitless thrashings.
I hear noises. People whooping and hollering. Somewhere around my back yard.
The four scrotes who checked out the house are in the neighbor’s hot tub, with lit candles on a bird feeder. Drinking beer.
I’m so stunned, I don’t say anything.
Who the fuck checks out a rental house, then has the hairy nuts to go back under the cover of darkness to soak in a hot tub that hasn’t been cleaned in like six months?
Scrotes, that’s who. Ones who wouldn’t have a moment’s thought about cooking up a little meth in a back bedroom, or having all-night raves in the back yard, listening to classic rock and drinking Keystone Light.
Instead of calling the cops – who I doubt would have responded, even at that hour – I called the rental company.
And they were no help, since it “wasn’t technically a tenant situation.”
So it looks as if we’ll wait and see who rents the house – then make it clear that the neighbors will not tolerate Neighbors From Hell (there’s even a Web site, www.neighborsfromhell.com to vent, plot, whatever).
Yeah, I sound like the grumpy old guy down the block who tells all the kids to “Stay off my lawn!”
But here’s the thing (and I stole this):
“If your lifestyle leaks into someone else's space/property, then you are the Neighbor From Hell.”
I’m out in my nice front lawn yesterday, when these scrotes pull up to the rental house next door for a peek. Two guys, two girls. Two sets of pure white trash.
One of the guys is a skinhead, the other is sporting a mullet; the women both wear half-shirts with belly flab (the infamous “muffin look”) hanging over their jeans.
They’re whooping and hollering as they circle the house and look in the windows. Then they really go ape-shit when they find the hot tub in the back yard.
They get back into their P.O.S. late-model Nissan sedan – and squeal their tires as they leave.
Not the kind of neighbors I’m hoping to have in my quiet little slice of suburbia.
Jump ahead nine hours. So I can’t sleep, right? It’s 2 a.m. and I go out to the couch so as not to wake the wife with my fruitless thrashings.
I hear noises. People whooping and hollering. Somewhere around my back yard.
The four scrotes who checked out the house are in the neighbor’s hot tub, with lit candles on a bird feeder. Drinking beer.
I’m so stunned, I don’t say anything.
Who the fuck checks out a rental house, then has the hairy nuts to go back under the cover of darkness to soak in a hot tub that hasn’t been cleaned in like six months?
Scrotes, that’s who. Ones who wouldn’t have a moment’s thought about cooking up a little meth in a back bedroom, or having all-night raves in the back yard, listening to classic rock and drinking Keystone Light.
Instead of calling the cops – who I doubt would have responded, even at that hour – I called the rental company.
And they were no help, since it “wasn’t technically a tenant situation.”
So it looks as if we’ll wait and see who rents the house – then make it clear that the neighbors will not tolerate Neighbors From Hell (there’s even a Web site, www.neighborsfromhell.com to vent, plot, whatever).
Yeah, I sound like the grumpy old guy down the block who tells all the kids to “Stay off my lawn!”
But here’s the thing (and I stole this):
“If your lifestyle leaks into someone else's space/property, then you are the Neighbor From Hell.”
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