Door-Pounding Neighbors, Horn Blarers, and Dog-Poop Leavers

Okay. I’m posting this fine morning on about 3 hours of sleep. I’ve never posted a bitchfest in the Pit before, but goddamnit, I’ve been pushed too far, a la Falling Down.

I was awakened last night, as I have been every night for the last three weeks at 2:30 in the morning by my neighbor’s 10-minute-long pounding and kicking on his back door, which is about ten feet from my bedroom window. This was AFTER a similar episode at 10:30 p.m., which woke my son up (on the other side of the apartment!). I don’t know what his problem is – maybe he works the graveyard shift, maybe he’s just an asshole who lost his keys up his ass after collapsing vomit-shellacked under his car after an evening of slamming Blatz and striking out at the local whorehouse, I dunno – but for Chrissakes, he better figure something out before I am forced to fling cat feces at him gorilla-style. These are the same neighbors who treat me to their Friday night fights. It would appear that the woman is a whore for wanting to go out with her friends, and she is also dressed like a whore with her fat ass, and why doesn’t she go on a diet instead of going out, and because the man is HER MAN she must STAY HER ASS AT HOME because HE SAYS SO, and lest she had forgotten, HE IS HER MAN. Oh, and these are the same fine folks who have three children who occasionally played with my son (this ended quickly when the youngest girl kicked my son square in the crotch because he wouldn’t let her ride his bike on the porch). I was treated to a window meeting with the gentleman in question when I was walking by myself across the street to pick up my laundry. This happy exchange began with the oh-so-sexy, works-every-time come-on that all Chicago women are familiar with, to wit:

Neighbor: “Psssst. Psst.”

I ignore it.

Neighbor: “Hey. You got a nice ass.”

I, displaying my superior intellect and gentility, flip the bird over my shoulder without looking back.

Neighbor: “Fuck you, bitch! I hope you get hit by that car!”

I turn around to face my accuser and hurl a pithy barb and am shocked to recognize my neighbor.

Neighbor: “Shit! It’s that kid’s mom!” (cleverly ducks behind window)

So anyway, back to this morning. After struggling to get back to sleep for an hour, I finally drift off. Then, at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m., I am awakened by the twit that, rather than dragging his bedsore-ridden ass out of his minivan, leans on his horn for 12-second bursts over…and over…and over…and over. At this point, I have lost all sense; I throw on a robe and march downstairs fueled by righteous indignation and blind fury, and tap the pussbag’s window.

Gundy: “Hi there. I’m the person that you wake up at least twice a week before dawn with your car honking at an hour when most people are still sleeping.”

Pussbag: (rolling eyes) “Well, there isn’t no parking.”

G: “Yes, well, you’re double-parked anyway, and it’s five in the morning, there’s not a whole lot of traffic here so stopping long enough to ring a doorbell shouldn’t be a problem. Or maybe your friend could look out for you?”

PB: “She knows I’m coming, sometimes she’s just running late.”

G: (losing it rapidly) “So you think it’s better to wake up everyone in the neighborhood because she’s running late?”

PB: (spluttering) “Who the fuck are you anyway? Queen of the world?” (I swear to god, she actually said this)

G: (through teeth)“No, asshole, I’m just a person with more sense and manners than a crusty-ass bitch who blares her horn at 5 in the morning in a resi-fucking-dential neighborhood because she can’t haul her ass out of the car without a prybar!” (I think I may have actually said “out the car” at this point)

PB: “Fuck you!”

G: (once again, in fine rhetorical form) “Fuck YOU!” as I stomp off back to my apartment.

I really am not the type of person given to frequent swearing matches with strangers. And in general, I have a very long fuse. But do NOT mess with my sleep.

Ahhhh…I feel better. I actually am moving in two weeks, so these problems will vanish shortly, and that’s a relief. However, the new apartment comes with its own set of problems. My boyfriend, son and I found an apartment that is perfect for us – beautiful place, great size, great area, reasonable price, and a yard. A yard! It’s the size of a postage stamp, but it’s a safe place for my son to run around and for us to have dinner on summer nights, so I was thrilled. We snapped the place up. Then, we visited the apartment to find a suitable place to place a DirecTV dish, and noticed that the yard is a veritable minefield of multiple-pound, post-Thanksgiving-dinner sized piles of dog shit. I’m not exaggerating at all: every 8-12 inches there are salad-plate sized poops, about 30 total, frozen in the snow all over the yard. I suspect that they are compliments of the two large (and reputably nasty) dogs that live two floors up (it’s a 3-flat), whose greasy-combover-sporting owner apparently sees fit to use the communal yard as a doggie toilet – and never clean it up. Perhaps they are his own shitpiles, I can’t be sure. Now, I can see myself becoming a real bitch about this one. Hopefully, this will be neatly avoided by having a chat with the landlord. Damnit…that nervous twitch is coming back.

Where do these people come from? What fucked-up alternate dimension spat these drooling slack-jawed turdlings from its gaping bunghole? Am I just hypersensitive? Comments, similar experiences, suggestions…all are welcome. Thank you for letting my bore you with my whine.

I should clarify - I just re-read this (after submitting, duh) and noticed that the minivan pussbag switches from “he” to “she”. I always assumed it was a “he” and it wound up being a she. I don’t know why I assumed that. But anyway…carry on.

I feel your pain.

This is what gets me about the inane - they have no idea that they are inane, so pointing it out to them is, well, pointless.

Surely there is a sure-fire, easy-to-understand, no-nonsense, all-purpose statement you can say to these dunderlings that actually makes sense to them and gets your point across. “You’re being an asshole” certainly doesn’t work, nor does pointing out how their actions affect others (as they simply don’t care).

How about, “What you’re doing is illegal and I will call the cops next time you do it?” Does that work?


I know where you’re coming from. People are always blaring their horns in the alley behind my apartment. Fortunately they’ve pretty much stopped doing it during sleeping hours, but there was a time. Nowadays these incosiderate meatsacks who can’t be bothered to get out of their car and use the intercom at the front gate do their honking whilst I’m trying to relax on weekends.

On the occasions when they do honk after dark, I have to fight the urge to start putting some 9mm holes in their car. I wonder what would happen if I just started playing a laser pointer over them?

Ah well, at least people aren’t shooting in the alley any more.

I never had a problem with neighbors before six months ago. I bought a house. I figured it was about time. 25, looking to get married and liked the area. I picked one of in a cul-de-sac neighborhood with woods across the street and nice people on the sides. Everthing was good. Then a month after I buy all the woods across the street get bull-dozed. So I’m pretty upset at this, detroyed the whole swath of woods for some dinky 1400 square foot crappy home. I guess I’ll have to get used to it though. Then the new neighbors move in. Yuck. Lowriding freaks that play zydacajun(sp?) music at all hours. Then they plant a mail box in my front yard. And they leave their trash can out all freakin’ week. No, they can’t bring it in when everybody else does, it’s just too easy to leave it in my way.
I got back at them though. I put a rusing Jeep in my driveway and regularly have all my mud-riding friends over to repair our beat-up trail rigs. If they get too obnoxious we’ll remove all our mufflers and rev our engines at four a.m.

I have a few neighbor problems myself, only they are at my sister’s apartment. The apartments are low-income housing apartments. They are big and new, but attract the wrong people.

Her neighbors unfortunatly are disgusting. They have a three bedroom apartment and have 6-8 people living in there. The male counter parts of this apartment like to sit in the hall way between the apartments sitting in nothing but wife-beaters and holey jeans. On the weekends they BBQ goat and pork chops in the hallway as well. They never ever dress the toddler in the house in anything but a too-small shirt and diaper. Also I was walking by the apartment and saw the adult male in the apartment naked! It was really disgusting.

Do you know how bad goat smells?

Just want to blow off a little of my own steam - I have a neighbor who always parks under my bedroom window (his house is down and across the street ), and starts up the noisiest, mufflerless, desperately needing a tune-up truck in the world at 6:10 AM every weekday morning. And lets it run for about 15 minutes. And to make this perfect, my apartment is ungodly hot all the time, so I have to sleep with the bedroom window open or smother. Who needs an alarm clock?

Query from the UK - what kind of apparel is/are ‘wife-beaters’?

TPWombat, I believe tubagirl is referring to the sleeveless, tank-top style of men’s undershirts. I’m not exactly sure why they earned the name, but I’ve heard them called that my whole life.

My own neighbors in the building are pretty nice, but there’s some friggin’ loon in the neighborhood who likes to summon his friends/dog/whateverthefuck by bellowing, “HeeeeeeeeyOH! HeeeeeeeeeyOH!” More in the warmer months than now, but the bastard keeps it up 'til you want to throw stuff at him.

We also have a couple of car-alarm folks who are someday going to find their windshields bashed in, and not by me, tempted as I may be. I’ve awakened time and again to some scumbag’s alarm going off for half an hour at a time. You know what? If you can’t park close enough to your home to reach your car quicker than that, what the fuck is the point of having an alarm on it?! Don’t rely on the friendliness of your neighbors when you’re this big of a dick. Sure, if I look out the window, which I always do, and see someone tampering with your car I’ll call 911 for you, no problem. But if there’s nobody there, and you don’t show up for an eon or so, I will wish you dead.

Gundy, you are my new hero!

“Wife beaters” are sleeveless men’s undershirts.

No. And I hope I never find out.

I will let you know, and thank you for the suggestion. I am sure that there will be another unpleasant exchange tomorrow in the a.m. And tonight…I will lie in wait for my asswipe of a door-pounding neighbor. With a ready-to-ignite bag of cat shit. Well, in my head I will. Most likely I will just call my landlord in the morning.

In the immortal words of Bartles and/or Jaymes, I thank you for your support.

::blushing:: Aw, gawrsh.

I’ve got one word for you folks:


Wife beaters are usually white undershirts without sleeves. They earned that name because the streotype is “white-trash southerners who wear them, also beat their wives”. It is a silly refrence to it, but most people know what that is refrencing, especially southerners.

Guess what happened this morning?

Nothing. Nothing at all. No pounding neighbor. No blaring horn. Just…silence. It was delicious. A full night’s sleep! (clasping hands to chest in utter delight) Oh my!

The only down side is that I retrofitted my Louisville Slugger with poison-tipped barbs for nothing. Perhaps I should not speak so soon, though.

Hey feather, in our city, it is illegal to leave your keys in your car with your car running if you aren’t in it (prevents car thefts and whatnot). Why don’t you call your local PD and see if it’s the same for your area? If so, next time Bonehead Neighbor leaves truck running, call the cops.

I had a face off with the neighborhood “honkers.” They did the whole honk the car horn for about 10 minutes ever night at around 11:30pm or so. So, one night I’d had enough and threw on some clothes and went out there only to find about 6 large men congregated around a minivan. I was a little intimidated so I stood on the sidewalk and yelled at them to quit honking their horn every night. They yelled some stupid incoherent reply and I just stood out there glaring at them for about 5 minutes.

Other neighborhood rant: Neighbor’s never supervised kids. They play in our driveway (its a small place, to their defence). Play with the hose and turn on the water and spray everything - cars, houses etc. The problem is they make a mess, dont turn off the water and ruin the hose. No matter how many times we told them no to, they still did it. Once I caught them doing it 5 minutes after I had just told them not to. When I went down there to ask them why they said “I dont know.” Grrrr. I tried removing the spigot handle so they couldnt turn it on, but the screw was stripped.

Also, houses spaced are only a one-lane driveway apart. In summer, naturally no one has air conditioning, so in the summer both houses have windows open. We can hear kids crying all night. Ok not all night, but its enought to disrupt sleep.

All of that was at my old place. I moved out in Dec. The new place has the occasional drunk singing man on the steps and the odd dog poo pile in the sidewalk. But its tons better. No noise!

Gundy, keep fightin’ the good fight and good luck in the new place. Hope you like it as much as I like my new place.

Standard fee for opening up a can of whup ass on in-bred neighbors is $50

Please leave said anount in plain paper bag by your door. Please let us know if we can be of any further assistance.


Vinnie & Guido

[Homer Simpson]

You mean the mob only did me a favor to get something in return? Oh, Vinnie & Guido! I will say good day to you, sirs!

[/Homer Simpson]

Better yet, take the van and dump it a couple of miles from the house (just make sure you have someone to drive you back)…and leave the keys in it.