At Home at Asshat Manor

I’m home from work today because I have been feeling sickly. It’s a nice day…except for the asshats.  Right now, they’re outside talking, sometimes driving away in a car, coming back to the manor in a car, hollering, smoking, and – the most distressing bit – listening to the rap music they have blaring from indoors. One of them keeps leaving in his enormous vehicle blaring thug-thumping music while he screeches in. This doesn’t just happen sometimes. This happens ALL THE TIME.

Because I’ve turned into THAT sort of neighbor I’ve resorted to snapping pix through my window because it makes me feel better about having such shit neighbors.

This Thuggalo is the one on home incarceration.  He’s sitting on a cement block, smoking. That’s klassy! Notice the front door is “open” so he can hear the tunes. Also the fan propped in the window because they apparently don’t have air conditioning…ALL the windows feature such a fan.

Here you can see one of the Thuggalettes who has just stepped THROUGH the storm door…because there’s no glass or screen… and she’s stubbing out a cigarette despite the presence of a sand bucket (see blue bucket, above). My question here is…have you no job? No school? Nothing but standing around in a parking lot in front of some dude’s craphole of a condo listening to crap music ALL AFTERNOON? Really? Also, the dog seems nice but whenever she’s outside EVERY other dog in the neighborhood barks. Constantly.

Thuggalettes at play. They’re playing tennis, FYI. In the parking lot. Around cars. Well, around the cars of the people who work at home or who work third shift.

11 Comments

  1. it is nice and simple…it’s also the same every where in the world…I’ve just seen your blog recently when it was in the freshly pressed list…it’s great…and about this post…my neighbors gather in front of a local store, drink beers they can’t afford, or pay at the end of the month, talk crappy stories, some of them about me (you can find that on my blog), mostly not true…that’s what they usually do, play smart, tough when really they’re not much but a miserable failure of society…

  2. When I lived in the city, my dreamed-of remedy (well, the socially responsible one anyway) for this sort of thing was for the government to sponsor public housing that would be only for women and their children under 18. No men. Any woman who really wanted to get away from these abusive jerks that live off of the women, one way or another, could move in and then she’s got an excuse. “No, baby, you can’t even come over for a visit, or they’ll kick us out.”

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