janradder: (godzilla)
So the neighbor who physically attacked me about five years ago has decided that he's moving back in next door after a four year absence. Needless to say, I am not at all happy about this development.
janradder: (godzilla)
Why is it the only time I ever see the local news in our neighborhood is when there's been a crime committed, yet whenever we have the May Day Parade or the Powderhorn Art Fair or Fourth of July fireworks they're suspiciously absent?
janradder: (Default)
Last night, as you may or may not know, was National Night Out. It's a chance for neighbors to get outside on a nice summer night and mingle. It's also a chance for me, if I go, to talk to a bunch of people I've never met before and try to make small talk. If given the choice, I would rather be stuck repeatedly with sharp metal objects.

Usually, I hang back and let [livejournal.com profile] haddayr do all the gabbing and schmoozing because she likes that sort of thing. No, I shouldn't say she likes it. She thrives on it. Which is why I like going with her to those things because I can just nod and smile and pretend I heard what people said (in addition to being horribly shy and introverted, I'm also a little hard of hearing, especially when I'm in large group settings and there's a lot of background noise going on). That was not the case last night because Haddayr had yoga class which left me on my own. But since the boys wanted to go, I went with them.

Was it as bad as I thought it was going to be? No. It was so much worse.

In addition to the fifty smiling strangers there was a loud band "playing music." To say they were bad would be an insult to bad bands everywhere. Not only could they not sing in tune with their instruments or keep their instruments in tune with each other, they couldn't keep their instruments in tune with themselves. And then they went into three and four part vocal harmonies. Out of tune. Singing the Grateful Dead. Loudly.

So I sat at a table watching √Čiden stuff his face with chips until there weren't anymore as Arie did some sort of coloring activity and listened to the horrid caterwauling of a group of neighbors I'd never seen before in my life. Meanwhile, I tried to smile and nod at the other neighbors I'd never met before who said god knows what to me because I could barely hear them over the classic rock slaughter. It felt like someone had grabbed my insides with a fork and was slowly but steadily twisting them around and around while commenting on how it was a nice evening outside and how Powderhorn Park sure was a nice place to live. And then at eight o'clock, I got out of there as quickly as I could without looking back for fear I might be pulled out into the hell I'd only just escaped.
janradder: (Default)
Is there any music worse than Christian pop? I'm talking about the kind you hear on the all Christian radio station, where every song sounds exactly like the last one and all the words are exactly the same -- the kind where between songs, you'll hear that gentle male preacher voice lulling you to sleep with the love of Jesus. Someone in our neighborhood has been blasting it to the neighborhood, perhaps in the hopes that doing so may save some of us sinners (or perhaps it's being done in an effort to finally drive us to the devil once and for all, in an effort to escape that horrid, horrid sound). Dear God, please deliver us from your devotee and shut off that infernal racket . . .
janradder: (wtf?)
As in many cities and many parts of the country, there's a growing number of vacant houses in our area. The windows and doors are boarded up and in winter, the sidewalks in front are only shoveled occasionally by the city, while in the summer, the lawns tend to grow longer than others. It's kind of depressing to see, and vacant homes, between being an eyesore and providing a home to rodents and delinquents (who are able to break in), aren't the greatest thing for a neighborhood. So, because a vacant house alone isn't bad enough, someone has decided to start tagging the homes in our neighborhood (presumably to make a political point) with the message, "Too many vacant homes; too many homeless." So now, we get to live in a neighborhood full of graffiti as well, though I guess since it's political graffiti instead of gang graffiti, I'm supposed to approve of it.
janradder: (charlie brown)
Along with the sound of the neighbor's obnoxious puggle.
janradder: (axe man)
That fucking puggle must die.  Seriously.
janradder: (Default)
Sadly, it was not at all true, my asswipe neighbor's canoe is still very much in his possession, having been kindly been placed into his garage by one of the residents in the condo which was formerly his four-plex.  I know this because he was over in the yard next door, skulking about and then finally pulled the canoe out to show to someone interested in buying it.

Steve has owned the building next to us since about a month before we bought our house ten years ago.  Over the ensuing years he has, among other things, wandered vaguely through our yard in the guise of projects on his own residence, allowed his dog to roam unhindered into our lawn where he would frequently take large gooey craps which Steve would conveniently not notice (both of these were put to a stop about three years into our residence here when we put up fences for the sole purpose of keeping Steve out), planted raspberries on our property after we had expressly asked him not to and then become offended when we dug them up and gave them back, filled a hole around a stump I was in the process of digging out with the left over concrete from his driveway, instructed workers cover our back fence with over a foot of dirt and old broken up concrete when he had yet another driveway put in (and yes, his plan was to leave the debris there permanently because, as he told me, he thought I'd like it there), and finally physically assaulted me when I returned said debris to his new driveway after a week had gone by and it was still in my yard.  Since then I do not talk to Steve.  I do not look at Steve.  I do not even acknowledge that Steve is there.  Even when he has tried to talk to me, sometimes even yelling.  That does not mean that Steve is not there, however, and it doesn't mean that he is not watching me.

Two years ago he decided to turn his four-plex into condos and sell the units off one by one.  At this point, three are sold and the one which he still owns, is rented out to a very nice couple.  All the people who live there, in fact, are very nice.  Steve, though, is not, and even though he does not live there, he is often found skulking about the property, darting through the breezeway between our houses, creepily moving here and there under the guise of doing who the hell really knows (I guess it's yard work but it's never anything that needs to be done since the people who live there take care of the yard themselves).

I am so tired of feeling watched in my yard.  Uncomfortable to be outside with my children.  I have no idea why he keeps returning to this place but I just hope the day comes soon (it's at least a year away, and maybe longer) that he finally gets around to selling that last unit and is out of our lives forever.  Every time[livejournal.com profile] haddayr sees him she thinks to herself (and maybe I'm paraphrasing it, if so, I'm sorry), "May you go never to return."  It's a great sentiment, regarding Steve.  I just wish he'd hurry up and do it, already.
janradder: (Default)
My asswipe neighbor's canoe is now lying in the alley.  God,I hope it didn't hurt anyone when it fell.

I also hope someone takes it and enjoys a free canoe!

Edited Later:
It's gone!  Someone did take it!  Yay!  Today, I love living in a crime zone!
janradder: (death race 2000)
This past Friday I watched out the window as the wind lifted up my asswipe neighbor's aluminum canoe from the top of his garage and threw it into my yard (not that he's an asswipe for keeping the canoe on top of his garage.  He's an asswipe for a multitude of various reasons and anecdotes much too long and involved to get into).  Yesterday, he put it right back up on the garage, same place as before.  Today I watched the wind again pick up the canoe and then throw it to the other side of the garage.  This makes me wonder how many times does this happen that I haven't actually seen it get blown off the roof and how much am I willing to bet that the canoe goes right back on top of the garage the next time it winds up in someone's yard?

ETA:
My asswipe neighbor's canoe is now lying in the alley.  God,I hope it didn't hurt anyone when it fell.

I also hope someone takes it and enjoys a free canoe!

ETA:
It's gone!  Someone did take it!  Yay!  Today, I love living in a crime zone!
 

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March 2012

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