Tuesday, May 10, 2005

I have a new neighbor who's like a frat boy who never grew up. He still dresses the same way, has the same hair, and acts/drinks like one. Plus, he doesn't work, just like a frat boy. I always hated frats boys. I mean, who in their right mind doesn't? It was a frat boy that date raped a good friend of mine and then told her she was asking for it. It was a frat boy who, on a dare, brought me a beer at a party, and when I told him that I didn't drink beer(only liquor)begged me a to take a sip of it. I should have known that it was half piss. Chalk one up for lesson learned. Plus, in addition to the 'George W' sticker on his car, he gets on my nerves for many other reasons.

See, they installed a flood light right next to the window in our bedroom, a window that has curtains and a shade but still allows the 2,000,000 watt light to stream through directly into our faces at all hours of the night. The first time it clicked on -- it's on a motion detector and they have an outdoor cat. This is not a good combo -- I thought I had passed on and was being beckoned into it. I was waiting to see people I knew that had gone on waving at me to walk through the tunnel.

The next day, I saw him in the drive way and thought I might gently ask him to lower the wattage, if not turn the dang thing off all together. I went over and I put on my 'sugar sweet' act, the one where I act like a lost 6-year-old girl in petticoats and lace. I was all "Um, excuse me, Sir, I hate to bother you but I was wondering if, maybe, by chance, if you have the time, if, maybe, you could see it in your heart to change the wattage on those beautiful new floodlights you have. For, you see, the light shines directly into our bedroom and it not only wakes us up, but it makes it difficult for us to go back to sleep, and my husband must get up in the morning at 6:00. Thanks for listening to me. If I bothered you in any way, I am sorry." And he was all like "?!!!? Get a shade. ?!!!?", with WTF's implied galore.

The petticoats and lace went flying out the window, but the can of whoop ass stayed firmly in my pocket at this point, much to my amazement. I became my non-subservient self. "Yeah, we have a shade AND curtains hanging there and that shit's so bright it cuts right through," with MF's implied galore. Then he was like 'whatever' and I was like 'whatever', and I went home.

Shortly thereafter he was working in his yard at 8-fucking-30 in the morning, blaring 106.5, The End, or some other pseudo-alternative crap which I could hear, through my ear plugs, when I heard his girlfriend come outside and call him.

"Honey?" she said sweetly. Silence. "Honey?" she said once more in the exact tone of voice.

"WHAT, WHAT, WHAT, WHAT, WHAT? JESUS CHRIST!!!!" he answered lovingly.

"What's wrong with you?," she asked.

"Nothing. I just don't like being called five(?)fucking times."

"I only called you twice."

"No, you didn't. I heard you call me five fucking times and I answered you every time."

Before getting into her car because, you see, she works, she simply said, "You make me sad."

That was beautiful. He makes me sad too, in a very angry if-I-were-a-guy-and-worked-out-and-was-all-muscley-and-shit-I'd-beat-your-ass-into-the-ground kind of way.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?