You know, I hate to give the impression that Terry and I are living in a ghetto here, but seriously – WE ARE LIVING IN A FREAKING GHETTO HERE, PEOPLE. The latest evidence of this? Well, hot on the heels of Little Johnny and His Amazing Tin Whistle, I’m proud to present The Sad Tale of the Teenager in the Car. Said sad tale can mostly be summed up like this:
There is a teenager in a car. Across the street. He has the car stereo jacked up to EAR BLEEDINGLY LOUD, and every minute or so he’ll lean heavily on the horn, evidently taking great pleasure in the resulting cacophony of sound. Occasionally he’ll grow tired of the music and the car horn, and you’d think that’s when we’d celebrate, no? No. That’s when he switches the radio to sheer white noise and jacks the sound up even higher. Gah.
In the front garden of the house in front of which the car is parked, sit the teenager’s parents. Drinking. Accompanied by another teenager. Also drinking. In the house across the road (Our house! In the middle of our street!) paces a demented red haired woman with a pair of orange earphones and matching rubber earplugs. If a freak accident were to see both car and teenager blown into the sky and away from the street altogether, it could not happen soon enough for the woman, who is thisclose to crazy from all the noise.
In the spare bedroom sits a much beleaguered boyfriend and a fluffy white wolf dog. They want either the teenager or the crazy lady in the headphones to shut up now. They really don’t care which.
So, this is how Sunday evening has been spent. I am incandescent with rage. WHY? Why do they torment me like this? Why am I the only person in the street with even the slightest clue about what constitutes "good manners"? Why did Little Johnny’s parents let him blow his whistle for three. solid. hours? Why are the neighbourhood children always in my garden? Why is there a car and a caravan parked on the pavement in front of my house? Why don’t they make the headphones in a range of colours, so I could match them with my outfits? WHY?
* Unless thy neighbour is a punk-ass ghetto neighbour, like ours.
Oh god, I am so sorry. You, T and Rubin are invited any time to stay here. I live on a rather busy street, but I have sound proof windows and no inconsiderate neighbors. I don't understand the selfishness of some people either.
Oh my god, what a nightmare.Do you think it's time to get 'the council' round again? Or perhaps the police, who could maybe slap an ASBO on said teenager for anti-social behaviour??
I would also extend an invitation to come and stay, but I'm about as far away from you as possible lol…although, given the circumstances that may be *just* what you need
God that sounds a horrible
Can you call the police and plead noise pollution?
Until the police come round, keep a diary of all the times the idiot plays his stupid cacophony and how long for. If you have a voice recorder anywhere or anything like that, try taping some of the music/noise so they can see JUST how loud it is.
Why do people have to be so goddamn selfish these days? Why don't people ever consider other people's feelings?
Jen – "as far away as possible" sounds ideal right now, but I wouldn't be so cruel as to encroach upon the newly-living-together state of bliss!
Erik – I'm on the next plane. Come pick me up.
Fael – I think next time it happens I'm going to get out the camcorder and record it. In fact, I might just start recording the street anyway, then at least I can send it in to one of those funny video programmes!
You don't have a path outside your house, do you??????? Looks like grass to me
hi charlie
*ghetto slaps charlie*
things are sure quiet in the ghetto tonight
just been doing a bit more reading, can't wait for the next update….
i forgot to say charlie, you didn't get a reply….how rude !
my post in the, 3 steps to go ghetto gospel chapter, was replied to with in 15 mins…wow