Back to the book...or back to the blog?

Back to the blog it is. What with the new eating thing happening today (see post below) I am having a wee bit of trouble focusing. Also I am microwaving my macncheese and don't want to break concentration from the book writing to go grab it.

Anyhoo the sun's return to my corner of the universe has brought out birds, kitty cats, and...my stupid asshole neighbor! He's back out on his porch, where he just finished jib-jabbering away with god knows who. He noted he'd be seeing said person soon, which I hope means that he and his wifey will be heading for the hills for a goodly amount of time, so I won't have to drag their maggoty trash to the curb or deal with backing out my own car while trying to avoid hitting their second newly-purchased vehicle, a big black gas guzzler. To be fair, they do manage to squeeze both vehicles in and leave room for mine and even though my car's been in the shop for two weeks they haven't taken over my space. But it's not fun to read about how nice they've been, now, is it?

What is extra fun is when they have friends over. Of course, they can't be bothered to get parking passes, I mean, it's a whole ten minute walk away and might cut into valuable porch ass-sitting time. So everyone crowds into our tiny driveway. They always invite me to stop by at their soirees and I feign busyness. Because what else am I supposed to do? I'm certainly not going to go. That might make me like them more.

I thought it might be kind of fun to write a children's book about them. You know, something along the lines of The Boxcar Children. Only instead it would be called The **&*(^&$&%& Neighbors and none of the kids who read the book would want to be anything like them. It could serve as a cautionary tale.

One more neighbor item of note: They have been doing lots of shopping as of late, purchasing not only the big black gas guzzler but also various and sundry things that come in large cardboard boxes, which they then leave, unbroken down, out by the trash cans. I had to wrestle a trash can free of a sodden cardboard box nearly twice the size of it when I took the trash out last week. Yet strangely there was a note slipped under my door that the landlord thought had been mistakenly written by me. It was from Sir Shithead downstairs, asking the landlord not to cash their rent check for a few days, as this would "Help out greatly."

Hmmm.

As I am not like my neighbor I immediately called the landlord and let him know he could cash my check but should hold off on the asshole's. Who I referred to by his Christian name. I'm just that kind of person.