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Neighbours part 1

I live on a very quiet, one-way street. I hate my neighbours. I don’t really hate them. That’s too strong a word. I don’t want anything to do with them and wish I didn’t know they were there. How’s that?

The homos.

The best garden on the street at the moment belongs to the homos directly across the street. These two guys, who I couldn’t tell apart for about 1 year, and their dog, actually take care of their house and garden. They have an enclosed porch where they sit almost every morning and evening and on the weekends. They’re in their matching white, terry-cloth robes, sipping tea and fucking staring at me.

I can always tell they are out there because I can feel them staring at me. I look up and they are cocking their heads to get a better look at me sitting on my enclosed porch (not winter insulated, facing north, so it’s always cold, even in the summer, which is good, but summer is only 3 months long here so it’s a bit of a waste, I really want to get it enclosed like the homos… with leaded glass and brick… fucking money).
They are always staring at me. And, it’s not just me, last night when they got home they started staring at their neighbour’s house to the left… I didn’t notice what they were staring at at first. Just the homos… cocking their head up peering into their neighbour’s lit bedroom…where the guy was putting away his clothes into a bureau. How fucking exciting. There the homos were, in the cold, staring into their neighbours 2nd floor bedroom.

So I don’t think I’m special… but my critique of my neighbours doesn’t stop there.

The Crazy Asshole Cat Whore.

So, last summer there was this cat that showed up in the neighbourhood and ended up living on my neighbour to the right’s open porch. This little black and white cat was very friendly and used to come over to my porch every day when I got home. We would play string. It was so much fun, the best neighbour I’ve had.

It was late June or July when the cat showed up. My neighbour was feeding her and, evidently, taking care of her, although she couldn’t live inside as the Asshole Cat Whore had a cat already and they didn’t get along.

It came September and then I started getting worried about this cat as it was getting colder. I don’t really like cats but this one was very nice and friendly. I never fed her as she wasn’t living on my porch.

So I spoke to the neighbour about this cat. She indicated that she had taken her to the vet to ensure that she was healthy when she first showed up on her porch but she wasn’t hers and she wasn’t sure what to do with her since she couldn’t take her inside.

I volunteered to begin the search for her guardians and told her I was going to do this. We exchanged emails so I could tell her what I had found and where I was going to look. First I started looking at websites for lost pets… to see if I could match her description. When that failed, I posted on free websites her description and how they could reach me if it was their cat.

I also posted a sign at my office for someone to take her *free kitty* her picture etc. I had a couple of nibbles from a few colleagues at work and I forwarded their names and emails to Crazy Asshole Cat Whore, but it never really went anywhere as this colleague wanted a cat that could hang out at home a lot by herself since she worked a lot.

No other interest.

It’s now around Rosh Hashanah – Yom Kippur time. I am really getting worried. But still not a word out of the neighbour about what she was doing to look for a new guardian for this cat. It’s getting colder. I am worried and wondering why the Crazy Asshole Cat Whore isn’t seeming to interested in helping her porch kitty.

So, I was walking to the Greek bakery for the dinner with the mother-in-law and the crazy Greek guy she lets live on her couch and walked right past the porch kitty’s picture in a veterinarian’s office. *Lost* *Reward* *Needs Medication*
So I went in right away and asked for a copy of the flyer since I thought this cat might be on my neighbour’s porch.
I was so excited. The picture, although black & white and photocopied several times, really looked like this porch kitty. My neighbour wasn’t home yet from work so we went off to dinner and when we got back I went over to speak to Crazy Asshole Cat Whore about the flyer. We looked a lot at the picture and compared it to the porch kitty. It was surely a match. Worth a phone call at the very least. I asked “Do you want to call or do you want me to call?” She stated that she would call. I said “Great, let me know what happens.” This was a Thursday evening.

Friday came and I didn’t speak with or even really see the Crazy Asshole Cat Whore.

Saturday came. Shopping day for the old man and I. Unloading the car with the groceries in hand we see her on her back porch coming out.

The old man, actually, asked “So, what happened with the cat?”

And she said in a sickly sweet voice “Oh! You missed the reunion! That was the cat. She had been left with a neighbour while the owner went out of town for an extended period of time and got lost one day.”

I asked “When did the reunion happen?”

She stated “Oh, last night.”

No bother of telling me or inviting me over for the reunion and certainly not going to share the reward money (not that I was interested in the money as she was the one that spent her own money for the vet visit and the food). And no thank you for doing all the postings and emails and getting the fucking flyer to begin with.

You get the picture. I now hate the Crazy Asshole Cat Whore. This is how she got her name. Rude fucking bitch…

Well. Now I can’t hate the Crazy Asshole Cat Whore. There has been a development. So, the old man and I were sitting on our front porch smoking a cigarette. A big work van pulls into the narrow driveway and proceeds to drive right over about 12” of my garden right over some of my plants and walked up to her door and knocked. I exclaimed “Oh, man!” and I hope he heard me. Of course, on his backing out of the driveway, he ran right over the garden again. The idiot should have parked in the street. Fucking asshole.

So anyway, the day after this little event, on Friday, Afghan Food Night, the old man was coming in with the dinner and as I opened the back door to let him in we noticed an Easter Lily in a brown paper package with a note. The note was from, of course, the Crazy Asshole Cat Whore that which said “I noticed that one of my tradesmen thoughtlessly left tire treads on your garden. I hope there was no damage.”

Of course I had to go over the next day and thank her for the Lilly. I hate Easter Lilies, they look like death and remind me of that freak Jesus (who I also hate) and now they will remind me of the Crazy Asshole Cat Whore. I don’t care what the old man says. She’s still an asshole and I will always hate her.

Stampy and Dorkus-Malorkus.

Thank god Stampy moved. Stampy and Dorkus-Malorkus lived next door for about the first 2 years we lived here. Stampy was Chinese and Dorkus-Malorkus wore lime green pants to parties. Stampy, possibly because she is Chinese and it’s a cultural thing, never took off her fucking shoes when she walked through the house, which is a semi-detached house, and we can hear everything each other does, especially stamp around, which she used to do on her hardwood floors. Up and down the stairs… Up and down the stairs…with her fucking shoes. I can’t tell you how many times I used to yell “Take off your shoes!!!!!!” at the wall hoping she could hear me. She never took off her shoes. Luckily she didn’t live there full time.
Then, one summer night, they had a party. There must have been 30 people running around their back yard, playing horrible music (they seemed to play a mix of Dire Straits, 1 Bob Dylan song, and others like Air Supply and Boston… just fucking horrible music. I used to go outside and garden and hear their music (the same music) coming from their kitchen. I would immediately go inside, aim all the speakers to the back door, and blare Lightnin’ Hopkins or Jimmy Reed or Memphis Slim… or the Grateful Dead or my French music like Thomas Fersen or Marc Lavoine … something fucking good, to drown them out. It usually worked. I hate them and their ridiculously bad taste in music) barbequing on the deck, being loud, smoking cigars and talking about their golf game or stocks or whatever else white people talk about. Fucking whiteys. I have a real loathing of white culture. I especially hate white blues. White people can’t sing blues. It’s molecularly and morally wrong. Now, they can appreciate it, but it’s total imitation and exploitation to mimic singing blues if you are a white guy. The old man calls me a racist. So be it. I don’t fucking care.

They were pretty loud and their deck is right out the back door. Of course they have a nice patio in the back, which they never seemed to use.

So we put the 30-year old air conditioning on a lot though the night. That thing is so fucking loud. It’s like an airplane taking off… you can hear it in the front yard, down the street and two blocks over. This was, of course, punishment for having a party that went into all hours of the night.

Stampy came over the next day with a bottle of wine and apologized if the party disturbed us the night before.

The wine was horrible. It was probably a re-gift from the night before. I don’t care what the old man says, she’s still Stampy and he’s still Dorkus Malorkus and I hated them then and will continue to hate them.
Then they moved. Thank god. Now a very quiet woman I’ve never met lives here. She must have some money because she bought that house (the exact same as ours) for about $80,000 more than what we paid and lives by herself with no kids. Now I have both next door neighbours be rich white women who live by themselves. I guess it’s better than screaming kids. That’s how I can get them back. Have bratty kids that scream and throw things through their windows. Fuck them.

There’s not much more to say about our neighbours. There’s a couple who are the neighbourhood gossips and ask a lot of questions and drop names. We were invited to their ‘annual open house’ for the first time. We went. It was weird. They showed us around their house. I thought that was bizarre. His mother and her very white upper-class looking friends were sitting in the living room staring at us. I was totally high, so it was weird to stare back at them without sticking my tongue out at them and farting at them and leaving out the front door… but I didn’t.

Their dogs were with a friend so I didn’t even get to see the best part of that house. Fuck them too.

All in all it’s a nice neighbourhood, I guess. It’s better than where we lived before. In an apartment building… with weird smells, and welfare cases, crazy imported ants which spread throughout the building, roaches almost as big as those from back home (the ones back home, however, had wings and flew around). I have a garden now and can escape into another room from everyone from time to time. \\

I don’t’ really expect anyone to read this whole thing. I was more venting. But, it’s all true. I know, I am all about truth.

What I’m Listening to now: Thomas Fersen - La Cigale Des Grands Jours