Mighty neighborly of 'em

I'm about tired of apartment living. My upstairs neighbors are driving me nuts. There are a couple of young guys who live up there, one of whom I've met who works the night shift at Wal-Mart, if that gives you any kind of inclination of the type of place I'm living. Not that I have anything against being young, and I don't have anything against people who work at Wal-Mart for that matter, but it is so different than the place where I am in my life right not.

A couple of weekends ago there was a rowdy party upstairs; the kind that involved people pissing and throwing shit off the balcony and the cops getting called. One partygoer, a girl, got a ride out in an ambulance and at least one guy got a ride out in a cop car according to my nosy nextdoor neighbor. Underage people were there apparently, if the tenants themselves are even of age. If so, it's only barely. And apparently all this started happening about the time I crashed for the night after returning home from a trip to Eastern Oregon and a stopover in Portland.

Tonight when I came home from work, for some reason I came in through the patio door, rather than the main entrance. And there was a bunch of crap scattered on and around my patio like a beer can, cigarette butts and a wasted cigarette lighter, all courtesy of my upstairs neighbors obviously. I haven't cleaned the trash up yet, because I'm debating whether to just throw it up over their balcony railing or to put it in a bag and leave it outside their front door, or completely puss out and toss it all in the trash.

But I had forgotten about my neighbors until about 11 p.m. when there was a whole bunch of commotion upstairs. It sounded like people were running wind sprints in combat boots. Back and forth, back and forth, just a few feet over my head.

Then the drama moved outside. Now, it's summer and it was fairly warm today and I live in an apartment with no air conditioning, so the windows are cracked open. And even over the TV, I could here the distinctive wail of a woman crying. There's a whole white trash late teen melodrama playing out just outside my livingroom window.

As best as I can make out the young woman, who doesn't live here, is upset at her boyfriend, or some guy, and then there are references to another guy, and two guys here talking to the distraught girl. She's pissed at her boyfriend. She may think he's messing around with her roommate or another woman or women, and there are some financial disputes involving money for car insurance and a ring the boyfriend may or may not have thrown out in the grass. And on top of it all, the guys here thought she was pregnant. She says she's not, but wishes she was, and doesn't want to lose the boyfriend.

I don't get it. How can you be in a relationship hopelessly doomed to failure, or emotional abuse, if not physical assault, and still want to father that guy's baby? You know, I've had women tell me I'm too nice of a guy before and I'm beginning to believe it. Maybe I should have hauled off and smacked a woman or two to get there attention. And yes ladies I'm being completely sarcastic, but someone needs to explain to me why women are attracted to dumbfuck asshole losers who couldn't give two farts about them. Do these callous bastards all have big dicks? Is it the danger that's a thrill?

I've never understood those dramatic relationships where people fight all the time, particularly in public venues and draw others, intentionally or unintentionally, into their little two-bit soap operas. I've only been in one melodramatic relationship (OK make that two, but one was a bit of a long distance affair and turning off the ringer on the phone eventually allowed me to get some sleep). But the one face-to-face dramatic pairing was with my ex. Obviously that didn't work out. And yes I was in love with her, but I hated the fights. Came damn closed to breaking it off every time we had one. And maybe that's what she was trying to get me to do, since she eventually broke it off. I've done that little trick before, make your lover think you are an asshole so she'll break it off. You may be an asshole, but at least you aren't the bad guy, if that makes any sense, which of course it doesn't.

But at this point in my life I just want to live in a quiet place of my own without young girls around whose only ambition in life is to get knocked up in an attempt to land a man and young boys around whose only ambition is to figure out when the next party is so they can get fucked up and try to fuck anything with a hole or two between their legs.

Yea, we need a little drama in life, but if I want to be a spectator to drama that what I've got cable TV for.

I think it's about time to start looking for a house. I wonder if the bankers and creditor's will agree.

There's always a fucking catch, isn't there?

Neighbors
Apartment living