Neighbors.
You either Love them or Hate them. Unfortunately, I have historically hated them. Maybe you've also had your fair share of living next to, behind, or beneath Chicken McScumbags. Let's look through a figurative album, if you will, containing mental snapshots of some cream of the crop winners I have had the grave misfortune to live in close proximity to.
1. Crazy Old White Trash Lady.
I used to live near Albany's notorious South End, and honestly, I didn't mind living there. Most people were friendly, and on my block it was mostly just families. However, there was Crazy Old White Trash Lady. Who just so happened to live next door to myself, my boyfriend at the time, and his big brother (who's still a good friend of mine.) COWL--as we will call her from here on out--enjoyed screaming out her window to ours while upstairs, screaming up at us while she was outdoors, and waiting for social security check. She found it necessary to constantly badger us about this particular issue, poking her head out the window and bellowing from her upstairs bedroom into our dining room, "DID YOU SEE THE MAIL COME YET?!" COWL seemed to have no fewer than fifteen "grandchildren" (who the fuck knows if they were even all related to her) living at her address. She explained to me that this was because her daughter's an incarcerated crackhead. (Paraphrasing, here....) If you bump into COWL on the street, she will never let you leave. She will fill and maintain her five square feet of lawn with plastic Santas and shit tons of jingle balls in the six months surrounding Christmas. Beware.
I used to live near Albany's notorious South End, and honestly, I didn't mind living there. Most people were friendly, and on my block it was mostly just families. However, there was Crazy Old White Trash Lady. Who just so happened to live next door to myself, my boyfriend at the time, and his big brother (who's still a good friend of mine.) COWL--as we will call her from here on out--enjoyed screaming out her window to ours while upstairs, screaming up at us while she was outdoors, and waiting for social security check. She found it necessary to constantly badger us about this particular issue, poking her head out the window and bellowing from her upstairs bedroom into our dining room, "DID YOU SEE THE MAIL COME YET?!" COWL seemed to have no fewer than fifteen "grandchildren" (who the fuck knows if they were even all related to her) living at her address. She explained to me that this was because her daughter's an incarcerated crackhead. (Paraphrasing, here....) If you bump into COWL on the street, she will never let you leave. She will fill and maintain her five square feet of lawn with plastic Santas and shit tons of jingle balls in the six months surrounding Christmas. Beware.
2. Crazy White Trash Alcoholic Dude.
It's possible that this guy was the worse of the bunch, but it's honestly hard to say. Crazy White Trash Alcoholic Dude lived below me in the ever-charming town of Cohoes, NY. He was a short, squirrly guy wearing a baseball cap, with the alcoholic tell-tale rosacea and a vendetta against for the world who-the-fuck-knows-why. CWTAD worked 10 hour days at a hard labor job, then he would come home, crank that annoying Kid Rock version of "Sweet Home Alabama" (which he would put on endless repeat) and proceed to get as wasted as humanly possible. And when I say wasted, I mean it. Wasted in the way that I could not see him and knew he was fucked beyond belief. He would start with the incessant foot tapping. Then, he would move on to the foot and hand-on-the-table combo. Which would get louder by the minute. Next, he would phone his only friend to come over. They watch football over the Kid Rock, and scream racist obscenities at the players on television. Later, if my boyfriend and I were lucky, his baby mama would come over and scream up at him from the street:
"Oh, don't give me that fucking BULLSHIT, you lying sack of shit. Don't tell me you're not fuckin that fat bitch down by the bowling alley, FUCK YOU. I see how she looks at me at the motherfucking grocery store! You fuckin' piece of shit bastard, FUCK you. I know what you're doing...Go fuck that fat piece of trash, see if I give a shit."
CWTAD would scream back at her, hanging out the window. He would say it was sad how she couldn't get over him. How it was none of her "goddamn business" if he fucked the fat chick. Often, his buddy would join in from the next window, telling the baby mama to get a life. This exchange would usually go on for about 20 minutes until someone (sometimes us) would call the cops. Shortly thereafter, Crazy White Trash Alcoholic Dude would pass out with the Kid Rock blaring all night.
On those extra special nights, I have never felt closer to committing suicide.
It's possible that this guy was the worse of the bunch, but it's honestly hard to say. Crazy White Trash Alcoholic Dude lived below me in the ever-charming town of Cohoes, NY. He was a short, squirrly guy wearing a baseball cap, with the alcoholic tell-tale rosacea and a vendetta against for the world who-the-fuck-knows-why. CWTAD worked 10 hour days at a hard labor job, then he would come home, crank that annoying Kid Rock version of "Sweet Home Alabama" (which he would put on endless repeat) and proceed to get as wasted as humanly possible. And when I say wasted, I mean it. Wasted in the way that I could not see him and knew he was fucked beyond belief. He would start with the incessant foot tapping. Then, he would move on to the foot and hand-on-the-table combo. Which would get louder by the minute. Next, he would phone his only friend to come over. They watch football over the Kid Rock, and scream racist obscenities at the players on television. Later, if my boyfriend and I were lucky, his baby mama would come over and scream up at him from the street:
"Oh, don't give me that fucking BULLSHIT, you lying sack of shit. Don't tell me you're not fuckin that fat bitch down by the bowling alley, FUCK YOU. I see how she looks at me at the motherfucking grocery store! You fuckin' piece of shit bastard, FUCK you. I know what you're doing...Go fuck that fat piece of trash, see if I give a shit."
CWTAD would scream back at her, hanging out the window. He would say it was sad how she couldn't get over him. How it was none of her "goddamn business" if he fucked the fat chick. Often, his buddy would join in from the next window, telling the baby mama to get a life. This exchange would usually go on for about 20 minutes until someone (sometimes us) would call the cops. Shortly thereafter, Crazy White Trash Alcoholic Dude would pass out with the Kid Rock blaring all night.
On those extra special nights, I have never felt closer to committing suicide.
3. Insane Jewish Mummy Yuppie.
Holy shit. This woman was so out of hand that I would have NIGHTMARES about her regularly. Of course, I should have known I would have to share a driveway with some batty psycho from "The City" living in Woodstock. The majority of the town consists of crazy Jewish people from Manhattan. This lady was above and beyond, though. First of all, she closely resembled a mummy--bone thin (as a result of daily African and ballet dance classes.) Her skin was the color and texture of tissue paper, peppered with liver spots. Her cheekbones could chop firewood. Insane Jewish Mummy Yuppie lived behind us, and we had to park as far to the side of the driveway as possible so she could get by. She used the shared driveway as an excuse to knock on my door and barge into my house without permission just about every single day. IJMY loved to gossip about other city transplanted Woodstockers that I didn't know at all. Frankly, I didn't fucking know anyone in that town, which turned out to be fine with me. IJMY would gesticulate wildly and holler at the top of her lungs about everything: her much-hated high school art teaching years, our surrounding neighbors, and individuals in her dance classes. At night, I would turn off the lights in my kitchen and spy on her as she painted for hours on end with a kerchief wrapped around her head. She bore a terrifyingly striking resemblance to a vampire in both mannerisms and appearance.
4. Teenage White Trash Couple with Angry Pitbull.
These inconsiderate douchemongers have been living next door to me since October or November. Before they came, living in this house was like frolicking in the garden of Eden. The neighbors were quiet, mature and chill individuals with which I could imagine myself kickin' it. Then, these 18 year olds moved and and shattered those dreams. It all started with the loud talking on their land line phone (seriously, who the fuck has a landline anymore?!) and then it progressed to beating the shit out of one another and storming out of the house dramatically. Sometimes if things get particularly heated, I like to go into the closet to hear what's going on word for word. "Don't fucking kick me!" Teenage White Trash Girl will exclaim to her male counterpart. "I fucking hate you, don't touch me!" she shrieks, slamming the door to the apartment.
Later on, white trash guy will take angry pitbull out to pee. Upon reentering, aforementioned beast will puke all over the carpet, directly in front of...My door.
Oh, and did I mention that neither one of them has a car? The dwelling has been transformed into Grand Central Station, with random cars screeching up to retrieve/drop off Teenage White Trash Couple with Angry Pitbull. Also of note: It seems that at least two or three random children show up weekly to tear shit up and bellow at the top of their lungs within the apartment of TWTCWAPB.
The icing on the cake? It appears that current TWTCWAPB neighbors have recruited another young trashy male to live in the apartment directly below us. How do I know this? Well, the first night young trashy male spent here, he got into a domestic dispute with his significant other, outside in the parking lot. Speaking of parking lot, a favorite past time of YTM includes drinking Keystone out in the shed and throwing the cans into the parking area after he imbides. He enjoys leaving signature stomp marks on the flattened receptacle after consumption.
Upon finding evidential litter of his garage boozing, I ask myself yet again: Where am I, the homeless shelter/fucking high school parking lot, OTB or a Boca Raton retirement community?
Try this on for size: "Home Sweet Home."
Holy shit. This woman was so out of hand that I would have NIGHTMARES about her regularly. Of course, I should have known I would have to share a driveway with some batty psycho from "The City" living in Woodstock. The majority of the town consists of crazy Jewish people from Manhattan. This lady was above and beyond, though. First of all, she closely resembled a mummy--bone thin (as a result of daily African and ballet dance classes.) Her skin was the color and texture of tissue paper, peppered with liver spots. Her cheekbones could chop firewood. Insane Jewish Mummy Yuppie lived behind us, and we had to park as far to the side of the driveway as possible so she could get by. She used the shared driveway as an excuse to knock on my door and barge into my house without permission just about every single day. IJMY loved to gossip about other city transplanted Woodstockers that I didn't know at all. Frankly, I didn't fucking know anyone in that town, which turned out to be fine with me. IJMY would gesticulate wildly and holler at the top of her lungs about everything: her much-hated high school art teaching years, our surrounding neighbors, and individuals in her dance classes. At night, I would turn off the lights in my kitchen and spy on her as she painted for hours on end with a kerchief wrapped around her head. She bore a terrifyingly striking resemblance to a vampire in both mannerisms and appearance.
4. Teenage White Trash Couple with Angry Pitbull.
These inconsiderate douchemongers have been living next door to me since October or November. Before they came, living in this house was like frolicking in the garden of Eden. The neighbors were quiet, mature and chill individuals with which I could imagine myself kickin' it. Then, these 18 year olds moved and and shattered those dreams. It all started with the loud talking on their land line phone (seriously, who the fuck has a landline anymore?!) and then it progressed to beating the shit out of one another and storming out of the house dramatically. Sometimes if things get particularly heated, I like to go into the closet to hear what's going on word for word. "Don't fucking kick me!" Teenage White Trash Girl will exclaim to her male counterpart. "I fucking hate you, don't touch me!" she shrieks, slamming the door to the apartment.
Later on, white trash guy will take angry pitbull out to pee. Upon reentering, aforementioned beast will puke all over the carpet, directly in front of...My door.
Oh, and did I mention that neither one of them has a car? The dwelling has been transformed into Grand Central Station, with random cars screeching up to retrieve/drop off Teenage White Trash Couple with Angry Pitbull. Also of note: It seems that at least two or three random children show up weekly to tear shit up and bellow at the top of their lungs within the apartment of TWTCWAPB.
The icing on the cake? It appears that current TWTCWAPB neighbors have recruited another young trashy male to live in the apartment directly below us. How do I know this? Well, the first night young trashy male spent here, he got into a domestic dispute with his significant other, outside in the parking lot. Speaking of parking lot, a favorite past time of YTM includes drinking Keystone out in the shed and throwing the cans into the parking area after he imbides. He enjoys leaving signature stomp marks on the flattened receptacle after consumption.
Upon finding evidential litter of his garage boozing, I ask myself yet again: Where am I, the homeless shelter/fucking high school parking lot, OTB or a Boca Raton retirement community?
Try this on for size: "Home Sweet Home."
3 comments:
Sounds to me like somebody drank an entire bottle of Crazy Old Cat Lady last night.
Jessicer, you forgot one very important crazy neighbor....The Pedophile Peeping Tom with a 3rd grade reading/spelling level...FRED!!
hahaha this is awesome...if you ever blog about unbelievable roomates...call me.
~Tess
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