I am going to go strangle some children.

Ever since my house burned down (and my life fell apart, and so on and so forth) the one bright spot is I moved to an apartment complex with a pool right outside the door. Cool! Happy summer!

Except that it’s always full of children when I want to use it, but hey, children are something like people and deserve a happy summer…until today. When they desided to play Marco Polo.

“MARCO”
“POLO”
“MARCO”
“POLO”

For the last. Three. Hours.

No jury in the world would convict me.

Looks around for something to use as a garrot. Be right back.

There are kids in the apartment above me. Dear sweet god. It’s like the pitter patter of tiny feet in combat boots, but without the benefit of being in a spaceship.

At last! A thread where I feel right at home! Aaaahhhhhhh!

Seriously, I am waiting to see if someone comes in here to shrilly proclaim that those who complain about children in any way should just go live in a cave, etc., etc.

3…2…

Hey, I love children, but I have lived next to an apartment pool and endured the Marco Polo hell for hours too. It’s a unique and exquisite form of torture.

Oh man, I thought you were going to strangle some children for being cruel to animals, or joyriding in somebody’s car (and killing someone in the process), or join a gang by proving themselves by shooting someone, or killing their neighbor’s kids. I wouldn’t fault you there…

But damn, 3 hours of playing Marco Polo…well, by all means…drown the little heathens.

Go live in a cave, you child-haters. :stuck_out_tongue:

Didn’t want your life to be unfulfilled, YaWanna.

All I know is that the wretched brats across the street from me are regularly up and outside well after midnight, tormenting the neighborhood dogs, resulting in a nightmarish cacophany of screaming and barking.

Three hours of daytime Marco Polo sounds okay to me.

The screaming is what bothers me. (Good God, am I getting old?) I don’t remember screaming like that! These horrid, high-pitched blood-curdling screams.

I am so with you on three hours of Marco Polo, though. I’ll help you drown the little suckers.

Heck with retail! All you need is one four slice toaster and a long extension cord–there will be a few more screams, but after that it will be lovely and quiet. Just get the net out to remove floaters before they clog the filters and you’ll be enjoying the summer fun in no time flat!

For best results, plug the cord into an outside, anonymous outlet…

Having visited once an apartment in the summer next to a pool, I made a mental note to never live in an apartment next to a pool.

The neighbor’s two daughters screem like they’re being murdered or worse sometimes. I hate when they do that, because then I have to go look for them to see that something isn’t wrong. It’s a pain in the ass, but I have to check.

Yeah - my boyfriend and I were out apartment hunting and we found one place. It was a fort-like apartment complex with a courtyard in the center, with a pool in it. Boy couldn’t figure out why I didn’t want to live there.

I have a love-hate relationship with children, and I don’t want it to turn into pure hate. Kthx.

~Tasha

Think that’s bad? Once I had to put up with the voice of a little girl (which penetrated the walls of my apartment even with the windows closed and the stereo turned up) who was riding in circles on her tricycle singing: “WAIT TILL WE GET OUR HANES ON YOU! I SAID, WAIT TILL WE GET OUR HANES ON YOU! I SAID, WAIT TILL WE GET OUR HANES ON YOU! I SAID, WAIT TILL WE GET OUR HANES ON YOU! I SAID, WAIT TILL WE GET OUR HANES ON YOU! I SAID…”

Ugh!! Years later and I can still hear it…makes me wish we still had those dinosaur-like flying raptors with twenty-foot wingspans that dive out of the sky to prey on the sick, feeble, and young

Me either - is it possible that we did do it, and just forgot?

My neighbor told my husband that we ought to move out of our neighborhood because we dared to tell someone (who reported it back to them) that we need a sound barrier between our backyard and his, as his kids scream a lot when they play.

I asked my husband if he reminded said neighbor who moved here first. :wally

A toaster and an extension cord would put the kaibash on that nonsense.

Oi, kiddies are nerve-rackers they are.

Doesn’t the hellish screaming annoy the parents themselves? is what I always ask myself, never having had kids.

The screamers across the street now are actually an improvement over the last family who lived there. They had a seventeen year old daughter who was mentally challenged, and once or twice a week the mother would lock her out, and she would stand on the front porch and scream and cry as though she were being murdered until she was let back in, sometimes as much as an hour later. This also prompted much crying and screaming from the two younger kids in the house. I called Child Services, but nothing ever happened that I know of.

Could you come over and strangle mine when you’re done? My son delights in sitting next to his sister, his finger an inch away from her arm, saying “I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you.” And instead of smacking him (which I desperately want to do) or getting up and moving, she whines “Mooooooom, he’s doing it aGAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIN”. So this is why some animals drown their young…

My sister and her friend were playing Marco Polo in the house at eight o’clock last Thursday morning. I don’t think they really cared that I was, oh, sleeping. (Actually, I wasn’t, because I’d woken up at 7:30 to their running around and shrieking.) I am never having kids.

Oh, yes. It’s not the occasional shriek that’s annoying it’s the inexplicable continous “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” usually accompanied by inexplicable running back and forth. Back when I was a kid, you only did that sort of running and screaming if you were being chased by a bear or if you’d just lost a toe or a hand or something.

The only thing that comes close to being as annoying as constant screaming is “Stop it!” “Make me!” “Owww! Moooooooom!” “Shut up!” Repeat ad infinitum. That requires 2 kids, of course. Unless you’ve only got the one kid and he’s talking to himself in which case you’ve got way bigger problems than screaming and yelling.

“I play in a rock band of authors, and one of the actual musicians who sometimes joins us is Roger McGuinn, the great singer/guitarist and co-founder of the Byrds. Roger is a MAJOR gadget freak. He travels the land in a custom van containing more than one GPS, not to mention many other devices. One time we were at the home of author/band guy Ridley Pearson, and my daughter and Ridley’s girls were running around shrieking very loud, as little girls do. So we were wondering how loud they were shrieking, and Roger said, “Wait a minute.” He went out to his van and came back with a decibel meter. He held this in front of the girls and asked them to shriek. They did, and Roger showed us the decibel reading: 111 decibels.”

  • quoted from a column by Dave Barry
    Pulitzer prize winning humorist (and father of a little girl)
    Bet he’d sympathize.