Community Living At It’s Finest

Oh man, you people make me laugh so fucking hard sometimes. LOVE the comments, LOVE the shit stories…I should really be working right this second, because I have a very long full weekend, but I’ve been meaning to post another little story about Chatty Patty. Also, I thought I’d give you a little update on the Fucktards upstairs.

That nice new SUV they bought back in November? They still have it. They also still have BOTH of their other cars. Now, normally if someone living here had three cars, I wouldn’t really narc on them. I wouldn’t like it, and I’d call them assholes behind their backs, (unlike the assholes who leave shitty comments on my blog – I’ll straight up tell you to your face, you’re a douchebag, and nobody likes you so fuck off) but I’d live with it. It’s against “the rules”, you see, to keep more than two cars per unit on the property. We’ve actually had to narc on some other neighbors, who had FOUR cars at one time, two of them disabled. Which is also a no-no. We had no choice then, there were no available parking spaces left in the lot because of that. This time, well, there are plenty of spaces, I just don’t like the fuckers. After all the trouble they’ve given us, did they really think we’d let that one slide? They probably did, to be honest.

However, at the last condo association meeting, MJ lodged a complaint, and the next thing we know, Fucky starts parking his BRAND NEW SUV on the street. Our parking lot encompasses 3 buildings, and the lots connect to each other, and our building is in the back. We’re pretty far from the street, and on a hill. You can’t really even see where he’s parking it from the building. Our street comes off a highway, and there are very few people who actually do park on the street, so people fly down it doing 40-50 miles an hour (it’s 25). I wouldn’t park on the street. Ever. Much less park my brand new SUV down there instead of my Shatillac. On top of everything else, it’s been cold as a mother fucker, and the dude is old and semi handicapped. He goes up the steps one at a time. And he’s having to walk on a hill, in the cold, to park it there. And no, I don’t feel fucking sorry for him. That’s just more proof of what complete fucking nutjobs those people are.

So anyway, that’s what the Fucktards are up to. Now I can tell you about Patty.

We have these other neighbors (there are 8 units) right across the hall that I’ve talked about before. They let their kids run all over the neighborhood unsupervised, and they frequently play in the parking lot, and walk in front of moving cars and shit. Seriously, they do that. One of them likes to race you on her bike as you come up the driveway. MORONS. For some reason, over the past year or so, these neighbors have had a serious problem with their stereo. They turn it on and it’s so LOUD, the stuff hanging on my walls rattles. And we’re ACROSS the hall. We don’t share any common walls. MJ will go over and knock, and they’ll turn it down, usually. They won’t answer the door though, and the fact that they then turn down the music is evidence that they already KNOW it’s too fucking loud.

The other night, they turned it on, all the way up, I’m guessing, because it’s never been that loud. I thought at first somebody got shot, or threw something at our door, that’s how loud the first, sudden BOOM was. MJ and I look at each other, startled, when we realize it’s the bass from their stereo. We wait a second, thinking they’ll turn it down right away. But they didn’t. So MJ gets up and goes out into the hall, and at the same time as he opened our door, Patty comes out of hers. They talk for a second, both realizing where it’s coming from right away. MJ steps across the hall, and bangs on their door. A few seconds later, they turn it down, but it’s still so loud we can hear it with our TV on. They never came to the door, of course. MJ comes back inside, and I hear Patty slam her door. We just look at each other and he sits down. A minute later, our phone rings. It was Patty. MJ sighs and answers it.

MJ: Yes, Patty?
Patty: Blah blah blah (can’t hear what she’s saying, it doesn’t really matter anyway)
MJ: No, I already knocked. They didn’t answer the door.
Patty: Blah blah I’m an idiot blah blah
MJ: HELL NO. I do NOT want their phone number. If you want to call them, YOU go right ahead and call them.
Patty: Blah blah could I be a bigger fucking asshole blah blah
MJ: NO. I’m already the bitch who complains about everything around here already. YOU call them.
Patty: Blah blah I can’t take a fucking hint blah blah
MJ: If they don’t stop, I’ll knock again, but if I call anyone, it’s going to be the cops.
Patty: Blah blah you got any more crab rangoon blah blah
MJ: Good bye Patty. ~click~

For realz. That bitch is insane. SHE is the one that’s friends with them. SHE is the one that knows all their fucking business. SHE is the one that took bags full of groceries over to their door, just to have them open the door and yell at her for knocking at a bad time. (They are both unemployed, but they have plenty of money to drink and smoke and party, and disturb their fucking neighbors at all hours, they wouldn’t get a corn laced turd out of ME.) Call up and bitch to them YOURSELF. We don’t have their number, and don’t want it.

And so help me God, if she gives MY phone number away to ANYONE, she’s gonna get my foot shoved so far up her ass they’ll have to break it off.