In which I am THRILLED

So, I was being all “I wonder how many views my blog got since I decided to randomly resurrect it?” and went a snooping in my little account here. I had over 100 views yesterday! That’s the most views I’ve had for any blog I’ve ever written. COLOR ME FUCKING THRILLED, YO! I have now been inspired to update every morning, regardless of whether or not I have anything of actual interest to write about. Well, I shouldn’t say EVERY morning. I do go churching on Sundays and my intarwebs time is pretty much non-existent throughout the day. Saturdays may be hit or miss, though I’ll be more likely to be on the computer during the morning. Thank goodness Miss Squish is pretty reliable when it comes to her morning nap.

So, yeah. I’m super fucking stoked that so many people looked at this little corner of the blogisphere that I occupy. And I was very amused to see which posts got the most hits. It would seem that most of the people who read yesterday liked seeing me bitch about people getting in my personal space or generally being assholes. Sine there is probably not going to be a shortage of people who don’t know how to keep the fuck back or to treat people with general respect and/or courtesy, I’m pretty sure that I’ll have plenty of material. Well, when I am able to venture out of the house on a regular basis, at least. Then again, my street does seem to have more than it’s fair sure of assholes, so maybe I won’t need to leave these four walls.

I’m not sure if I ever mentioned that there is a house full of drunk people just a few houses away or not, but there is one. There were, like, 5 or 6 different people living there and every last one of them were drunk ALL.THE.TIME. which is, in all honestly, a pretty sad existence. I mean, being drunk every once in a while isn’t a bad thing, but when you can’t control yourself and you basically live in a cloud of booze fumes, well, what kind of a life are you really living?


So, there’s a house that I like to call Drunk House®. Not only were there a bunch of drunk people living there, but there were 2 drunk dogs living there as well. Not sure if the dogs were actually drunk, but you know. There were all sorts of nifty little things that went on at Drunk House®. For instance, when the drunk dogs would get loose, one of the drunk people would attempt to get them and bring them home. How, these dogs looked pretty bad ass. One looked like it could’ve been a pit and the other was possibly a rott, but every time I ever saw them off their chain and wandering around the street, they appeared to be sweet dogs. I never saw them do anything more than piss on a tree. Or a fence. Or a car. Basically, drunk dogs liked to pee on things is what I’m getting at. I guess there was one time when one of the drunk dogs got into it with another dog, but I didn’t see it. In fact, I’ve never seen the other dog that was supposedly attacked by drunk dog. The only reason I even know something happened with dogs is cuzz I could hear the screaming that ensued. At 0600. (Seriously, the people on this street have NO concept of time. I’m pretty sure they don’t give a shit, either.)

Ok, so now I’ve told you about Drunk House®. Well, this past weekend, Greg and I had come home from churching. He was mowing the lawn before the storm came and I was on the computer doing… Something. Probably looking for another house to live in. Miss Squish was laying in her bassinet thingie and it was relatively quiet, except for the TV and lawn mowing. Heh. I wasn’t expecting to hear someone pounding on my screen door, though. Since Greg was home, the big door was kinda open, and I could see a chick standing there. I’m thinking, “Great. She probably wants to call the cops again cuzz her boyfriend was beating on her and breaking her phone and lighting her clothes on fire”.

Oh, did I forget to mention that little gem? A couple weeks ago, drunk chick pounded on our door, asking to use the phone to call the cops for that exact problem. Now, I’m not so callous as to be annoyed by something like that. If someone needs help and they ask me for it, I’m not going to be all pissy about it or anything like that. We let her use our phone and she stayed outside to wait for the cops. What got me was that after her frantic plea to use our phone and the call to the cops, she was back over there within five minutes, screaming at one of the drunk dudes about getting her shit back. She then went inside the house and whatever happened in there happened. THAT is what made me roll my eyes when that chick knocked on my door. If you want help and want out of a bad situation, cool. But don’t taunt the dude/chick/whatever that is beating you and then go back into the house 5 minutes after calling the cops like everything is ok. (Also? The cops never showed, which leads me to believe that they’re frequent callers. No, I don’t think that’s a reason for the cops not to show, but it is what it is around here.)

Hmm… Sidetracked. Let’s continue.

So, there was a chick pounding on my screen door. I go over and answer it, trying to think of a reason to not hand over my cell phone (when we let drunk chick call the cops, we let her use the house phone. We use magic jack, but forgot to renew the yearly whatever, so it’s down until we remember to float the $20 over). Imagine my surprise when not only was this a different drunk chick, but that she was with ANOTHER drunk chick and was smoking a little cigar. I opened the screen door a little bit so I could hear what she wanted to say and was instantly assaulted with the little cigar smoke. (Yes, I am a smoker and have been for damned near 20 years, so smoke doesn’t really bother me all that much. However, to blow that shit in my face when you’re on MY porch? Well, let’s just say I wanted to stab a bitch in the throat with my cane.) I backed up a little and realized that not only was the little cigar stinky, but there was also a nifty odor of ass and armpits wafting into my home.

Drunk chick proceeds to tell me that she and her friends had JUST MOVED IN down the street and she was introducing herself to all the new neighbors. Ok, I can see wanting to do something like that, but not in this neighborhood. And the fact that she told me she had just moved in and pointed to Drunk House® only made me incredibly curious as to what type of bullshit I was going to have to deal with now.

She decided that it would be a good idea to cough at me and then tell me to not mind her voice. Um… Ok. She then tells me that she and her friend were asking the neighbors if they would like to have the numbers for their houses painted on the curb “so cops and bambulances and shit can know where to go when you call them”. Heh. This is not a bad idea, per say, but when you say “bambulance” like that’s actually what the vehicle is called and you infer that I will be calling emergency personnel on the regular, well, I’m going to think that you’ll be doing a less than stellar job painting numbers on a curb. I mean, it seems like a simple enough task, but so is knowing that it’s pronounced AMBULANCE and that not everyone calls 911 every single day. She then tells me that my neighbor down the street is going to let them do it and points to one of the EMPTY houses with a For Sale sign in front. Mhmm. I bet they’re letting you paint their curb. Being that they’re invisible, I’m sure that they’re fucking thrilled that you wanted to paint their house number on the curb for them. She THEN informs me that she normally charges $10 for such a job, but since I am her new neighbor and I am nice, she’ll do it for $8.

Ok, I know times are tough and I totally commend her for coming up with something useful to earn money doing. I really, REALLY do, especially considering that a lot of people in this city have taken to breaking and entering as a way to make a living. Had she approached me differently, I very well may have told her to go ahead and would have made sure to go get some cash (we don’t keep cash on us anymore since my purse was stolen last year) for her trouble. But, if you want someone to actually take you seriously and want to compensate you for a service (ew, get your mind outta the gutter, pervs!), you might want to wait until you’ve finished your smoke and are sober. That last one there is pretty fucking huge. BE SOBER.

I declined by telling her that we didn’t have any cash on us (which we honestly didn’t) and that we were going to be moving, which is something that we are looking into. HARD. She was nice enough about it, even sympathizing with me when I told her my purse had been stolen and we’d been pretty much shit on ever since then. She said that if I changed my mind, just to stop over and she’d be happy to help me. She and her friend then left and went back to their house. That was when I noticed that there was all sorts of furniture and garbage out on the curb in front of Drunk House®. Now, I’m not sure if the original drunk gang got booted out and different drunk people moved in or what, but the normal drunk gang hasn’t been anywhere around there in a few days. They’ve always managed to find their way back home before, so I think one drunk gang moved out and a brand new one moved in. The new drunk gang likes to be outside all the time, which wouldn’t be a big deal except that, for some reason, when people are outside around here, they don’t seem to understand that they don’t need to yell every.fucking.thing.they.say.

So, long story long, I have a feeling I’mma have LOTS of fodder for blogging. If this summer is anything like last summer, there should be plenty of entertainment. And since there is an ambulance base at the end of the block, I’m pretty sure that it will be much more interesting. After all, drunk people and drama whores LOVE to call the “bambulance” for (mostly) bullshit. Factor in full moons and I am certain there will be something to write about. I’m almost sad to say that White Trash Dinner Theater® seems to have been canceled, though. Heh.

(You know, I’m not sure this up to my normal awesometacular blogging skillz. I’m probably trying too hard since I saw so many people looked around yesterday. Give me a day or two and I’ll be back to my normal writing ways. I hope.)






    • Greg Peters
    • June 3rd, 2011

    I miss douchebag dinner theater…

    • Oh dude. It is SO.MUCH.BETTER. over here. They will throw the fuck down like I never saw at the old place. It’s kinda scary, but it adds an excitement factor that makes it that much more entertaining.

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