The husband is a borderline recluse...he literally runs inside his house if he sees me, only returning to the great outdoors once I've closed the door behind me. He mows the lawn in bizarre outfits: tube socks, hiked all the way to his knees; shorts only a gym teacher could truly appreciate; an old sweat stained t-shirt...and to top it off...a set of headphones someone from the 1980s dearly misses. He cuts the lawn in the dark... generally after 11 PM. His lawn mower is the plug in kind. After he's finished, it looks like someone took a hacksaw to their front lawn, and some reason, he leaves all of the weeds intact.
The wife is going through some sort of mid-life crisis. She wears shorts so short that you can see all the way to you-know-wear. And the makeup...how she would make Dolly Parton proud (sorry Dolly). She wears these skimpy bikinis to wash her car; the soap feeding nicely onto our property. The only time we've ever spoken to her was when she took her geek of a daughter around the neighborhood to sell chocolate bars for band camp. Yes that's right...BAND CAMP.
Their daughter is the oddest creature I've ever had the misfortune to live next door to. I'm unapologetically going to say that she's the biggest dork I've ever laid my eyes on. Although she's probably close to 18 (her obnoxious family had a graduation party last weekend, otherwise I would have assumed she was 13 or so) she acts like an immature child. They have a trampoline in their backyard...one that she uses for a plethora of occasions. She likes to make out with her boyfriend on it. She likes to sit on it with her other dorky friends in the dark until the wee hours of the night...cackling away at ear piercing decibles. She likes to bounce up and down on it, screeching like a hyena. My dog hates her. Everytime he even remotely senses she is nearby, he begins to growl...the hair on his back standing straight up into the air.
Tonight she's outside with her nearly there bikini...screeching like a freak...going back and forth on a slip n slide, while her parents watch Phil Collins on a large projector, propped up on the side of their home. Let me just tell you now...if I were to have acted the way she does, my mother would have smacked me....and rightfully so.
So here I am. Stuck in the house on a beautiful night. I had to close the blinds over the kitchen door so my dog would settle down.
I'm hoping and praying she goes away to college and her parents will miss her so much that they put their house on the market and move with her.
Plan "B":
- Once the housing market turns around...move FAR FAR AWAY.
- Before I move...I am going to look up every single person I know and invite them over for a three day party.
- I will call up our friends who are in the band Disturbed, and rent as much audio equipment as possible, even if it costs an arm and a leg, so they can play as loudly as possible.
- I will encourage people to get very drunk and be very loud.
- I will hire a fire baton juggler and hope that they accidentally drop one of their fire sticks on our neighbors lawn.
I have never disliked a set of neighbors as much as I do these people. Initially, I tried to be nice. I even attempted to introduce myself and was given the cold shoulder. I'm one of the nicest people you could live next door to, until provoked. Here I was...so excited to live on a quiet cul-de-sac...dreaming of hanging out in my nice big backyard...maybe to read a book or sun myself. In reality...I'm stuck in this house and can still hear her yelping...and the sounds of Phil Collins singing Pseudo-Pseudo. Why me?
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My other neighbors are sad to say...much worse. Last summer, one of them got so drunk she stumbled over in a stupor to tell us she thought she had lost her son (he had actually taken off on his bike to escape the madness and came back about an hour later.) She also thought she'd locked herself out of the house and had a large ladder set up against her house at a terrifying angle. At that point her thought process was to telling her to try to break an upstairs window to get in (even though there were plenty of available windows on the first floor). Before she managed to break her neck, we stopped her and surveyed the back of the house. Fortunately she had left the screen door open and was able to get in. Her keys were in the ignition of her car, that she had just driven home from the liquor store. Every few months, we endure an incident or two. It's actually really sad that her son has to live with her while she's in such a state. I've often wondered if I should call DCFS...
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One wintry night another neighbor was drunk and attempted to get into his house. When no one would let him in, we saw him making snow angels (of course with no coat) on another neighbor's front lawn. After a short while, someone let him in the house (apparently after they saw his display). A few minutes later, two squad cars pulled up, along with an ambulance. Another neighbor had called the police and a search party was dispatched.
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Good times!
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