adventures in awkward

You ever have one of those days where absolutely nothing goes right? Like… all this random crap comes out of nowhere and piles on your shoulders until all your brain can manage to do is shut down while you sit in a corner and chomp on a tube of cookie dough like it’s a perfectly roasted turkey leg. My mind does this a lot in stressful times. I want to just not deal with things that give me anxiety. It’s easier to hide in my basement in the dark binge-watching Gilmore Girls for the 100th time rather than actually, you know… live life.

Monday morning Alex and I were gifted a wall of graffiti on our car. Some young, shitty kid with terrible parents thought it would be funny to take a Sharpie to our freshly waxed Audi. Well, I’m guessing it was a kid considering one of the words this little prick wrote was “lamo.” I’m assuming he meant ‘lame-o,’ but… education has obviously failed this little bastard. Other words he wrote: “die, bitch, fuck you, stupid, haha, you suck.” We are dealing with a genius here, guys.  Honestly, I figured it was an isolated incident so we spent a few hours trying to wash it off and called it a day. Until we woke up Tuesday morning and it was there again so we figured it was time to get the police involved.

There is no doubt in my mind that this is the work of the Neighbor Boy I’ve blogged about multiple times. You know, the kid whose bike I borrowed and whose balls I kicked in when he walked right into my front door with no warning. I’ve also made him fall into a nice hot puddle full of dog poop I awkwardly borrowed from my neighbor when he wouldn’t stop jumping our fence and trampling the flowers. We have a sordid past, but this is the first time it’s gone criminal. We live in one of the safest towns in America, yet we had to install multiple home surveillance cameras to try and catch this shithead in the act. I was hoping to take it to his parents if we get the video, but Alex wants to instantly turn it over to police and put it on his record.

The saga continues. This time I’ll give a point to Neighbor Boy. Subject to change whether we catch him on camera or not. If I can get the cops to scare the ever-loving shit out of him, I’ll award myself an extra point. #TeamBlair (Yes, I just hashtagged in the middle of a blog post.)

(Also, sorry if I missed/was super late responding to your comments on my last blog. Alex and I went to the mountains for a week, then when we got back we’ve been in a constant shitstorm of vandalizing and our cat had some medical issues that needed immediate attention. I still love you. I promise. *Wipes tear.*)

Blair: 3
Neighbor Boy: 1 

(Links to previous posts are below! Also in the middle of the post, but it’s  a lot nicer looking down here.)

help yourself to some tasty poop water (3/19/2016)
aim for the goods (5/18/2016)
i’m a petty thief (4/28/2017)

 

 

adventures in awkward

When I was young there was a woman who lived across the street from me that I had on good authority to be a witch. She lived in a small one-story house closed in by a tall wooden fence with paint chipping off, and covered in a shade of pine trees. Let’s be real here – she scared the ever-living shit out of me and all of the other kids I knew. Theories flooded the neighborhood, and when you’re an impressionable six-year-old, it’s not a big leap into believing she killed her husband and let her dog eat his corpse in some sort of sadistic ritual. I was convinced. Every time I saw her walking her massive German Shepherd down the street, I clutched my Cabbage Patch Kid, hid, and sent out a few prayers. She frightened me so much I’d start crying if I was alone outside, or if I thought she caught me through a window. It was a truly terrifying time. She was my Boo Radley.

I’ve had an ongoing issue with one of the neighborhood kids in my cul-de-sac. I’ve posted about him before – making him swim in dog-poop-water, and kicking him in the balls one night when he walked – without knocking – in my front door. To sum it up, he’s a kid that has no respect for anybody and has asshole parents that don’t pay attention to him. I haven’t had much issue with him lately, except for the fact he leaves shit in my yard all the time even after I ask him multiple times to move them. So, I decided to start storing them in my garage for him, you know, so they don’t get ruined. I wouldn’t want his pretty new bike to get rusted or something, right? Okay, I’m a petty thief. I’ll admit it.  I noticed him yesterday evening knocking on every person’s door but mine looking for his bike. He would glance over towards our house, but he was too afraid to come ask. I even went outside to get the mail, giving him a chance to talk to me in a neutral area, but he scurried away inside the second I started to emerge.

This kid literally ran away from me and was willing to give up his new bike just so he didn’t have to talk to me. That’s pretty bad. So, I’ve come to the sad realization that I am somebody’s Boo Radley, too. I don’t know if I should take it as an honor, or feel bad about it. Am I that crazy that the townsfolk are scared of me? Should I try to make nice with these kids, or ride it out until Halloween and  try to scare them so much it’ll be a night they’ll never forget? What do I do with this great power?

(Don’t worry, this morning I wheeled his bike back to his front yard. I didn’t actually intend on keeping it.)

On another note – today is my 3-year-anniversary for signing up on WordPress. Woo! Granted, I didn’t start actually blogging until months after that.

adventures in awkward

Do you guys remember the post I made about the little hell-child that roams my neighborhood? The one that I forced to take a swim in dog-poop-soup in my backyard? (Jesus, if you have no idea what I’m talking about, I probably sound like the worst human being there is.) THE KID HAD IT COMING, OKAY? I’m not a monster.

If you don’t feel like clicking the link, I’ll give you a fast overview. There’s a middle-school kid who roams our cul-de-sac and has no respect for anybody’s property. He walks in unlocked houses. Goes through cars. Jumps fences and tramples on flowers. Has left chip bags and other trash in yards. The worst thing about all of it – his parents don’t give a crap no matter how many people complain about it. The kid is the spawn of Satan. Seriously. Pretty sure his mother is Satan’s side bitch.

Now that we’re caught up.

We lost power for a short time last night during a heavy thunderstorm. Usually I like storms, but when the power cuts in the middle of the night and I’m suddenly sitting there in the dark only able to hear my cat slowly licking her ass, things get creepy for me.  Here’s the following series of events:

Alex: I love you

Me: I love you way more, though

Alex: Uhh, I don’t think so.

Me: God, I hate us. We’re so sick. If I weren’t me, I’d totally want to kill us.

*Front door randomly opens and a rain-soaked person walks right into our house*

At this point, I was 100% sure this guy was, in fact, here to murder us. So I did what every classy kick-in-the-balls-funnywoman would = aimed for his nuts. I ran up, while screaming like a banshee, and punted as hard as I could before shoving the person back out the door. Alex grabbed a flashlight and, lo and behold, neighbor boy was clutching himself as he ran away.

Yep. I kicked an 11-year-old in the balls last night. I’m not sure I should find this as humorous as I do. Maybe I AM a monster. I’ve got a first-class seat on the ride to hell. Who’s joining me?

Blair = 2 Neighbor Boy = 0

 

rambles

I live on a cul-de-sac in one of the top 5 safest towns in America. Seriously. People are happy here with their pedigree dogs and their perfect families. Everybody waves. Everybody’s polite. It’s  goddamn sickening, guys, and completely unnatural. But everyone deals with neighbors that need to be slapped upside the head once in awhile. Even here in Perfectville, USA.

I’ve had an ongoing issue with one of the neighborhood kids. Now, you don’t need much introduction to this kid, except that he lives across the cul-de-sac and he specializes in being strange and an asshole. Good times. I know that sounds harsh, but really…. all kids are strange as hell. Yes, even yours. This kid will do whatever the hell he wants and has parents who are never home to correct the behavior. He climbs over our fence and tramples on our garden. He’s opened and walked right into our front door. He’s even taken our mail from the box before. It’s insanity.  I, and many other neighbors, have talked to him and his parents multiple times but nothing ever comes of it.Awhile ago I spoke to him again about staying out of our yard, especially if the gate is locked. But… he didn’t listen. Again.

dennis_the_menace_asshole

So I came up with a master plan to get him back. Which required me asking one of my other neighbors if I could have his dog’s poop. (Yes, it was awkward. Yes, he probably thought I was crazy and questioned whether this town is safe anymore.) I lined up the poop by the fence where the kid lands and hosed it down with water. You know… to soften it up nicely for impact. So thoughtful of me, right? Then… I sat there excitedly eating chips and waited all day staring out my window. It was worth it. Just to see the look on the kids face when he fell into a puddle of murky shit water with bugs floating all around. He hasn’t jumped our fence in months.

Blair: 1 Neighbor Boy: 0

Sometimes you’ve gotta fight fire with fire.

(Disclaimer – No, this kid doesn’t have any disabilities besides being a jerk, so don’t worry. And, yes, I could have been an adult and not stooped to his level, but where the hell is the fun in that?)