OMG just shut the fuck up

Can anyone ever just shut the fuck up? EVER??? I live in a large apartment complex. Oddly, despite the fairly-flimsy construction, I rarely have problems with noise from other tenants. It’s the goddamn strip mall that shares the parking llot. And the fact that, in Seattle, I have to leave my window open 24/7 for 6 months of the year (I also have my fans and white noise machine on for 12 months a year but that only goes so far).

So, for some baffling reason, there is a leaf blower that goes outside my window year-round for at least a half hour every night at around 9-10pm, regardless of weather, and regardless of the fact that there are 0 trees in the goddamn parking lot. There are car alarms that go off literally about 20 times each day, for anywhere from 5 seconds to 30 minutes. There are the delivery trucks beeping at 5am every single morning. There is the occasional police-attracting fight, but that can be mildly entertaining, so I won’t even complain about that. I can deal with all of this.

But Jesus Fucking Christ, why would it be legal to go outside the residence of hundreds of people and plug in your goddamn fucking monster amplifier and play music ALL DAY begging for money day after day after day? This happened all last summer and fall, and SURPRISE, here they are again bright and early this year.

It’s going to be a long fucking spring/summer/fall.

You’re welcome.

Fireaxe to the power cord. In the parking lot, with Professor Plum.

Is it actually a leaf blower. The timing and location suggests that it’s someone’s bathroom vent fan.

So hoping this was about certain unnamed threads here in the BBQ Pit.

Oh, don’t be a coward. Name them.

Fuck it. I’m making MY post about the people who work under me: if you’re standing up AND talking out loud AND looking straight at me, I’m gonna assume you want my attention for something. That means I’m going to stop doing the fiddly code BS I’m messing with, and turn my own attention to you. And listen to you mumbling.

When I saw “Wha – ? What’d you say?” and you say “Oh, nothing, just talking to myself!” and I have to re-focus on the fiddly-ass error code I was trying to fix, I’m going to [del] think murderous thoughts[/del] wonder why the fuck you looked like you were trying to get my motherfucking attention!
ETA: my old-ass cat has started shitting on the floor. In my crappy new little apt. that I got shuttled off to live in after my husband’s death. Which has installed wall-to-wall carpeting. Which I told my parents I hate. To which I had to hear “Why? It’s lovely! Who doesn’t like carpeting?” ad nauseum. (HA!!)

Who has two thumbs, two cats, no husband, and knows why wall-to-wall carpeting sucks? THIS DOPER!!

So … is he sick? Old? Senile? Objecting to the move in the only/smelliest way he knows?

Well, don’t stop there. There must be SOMETHING you can tell us about your shoes.

I started a somewhat milder thread asking about a scenario similar to what the OP is going through, but it got no traction.

Oh, hell, I thought I was in the mini-Pit thread.

It’s worse. Yep, you’re in Texas.

I am. We just got through the worst of the run-off candidate TV ads, too, so there’s no telling what fresh hell will come next.

Oh, wait, I remembered: July.

Name the threads? And … and … and … and … and …

advocate the restriction of freedom of expression - the most sacred of rights on the Internet??

No way, sir! No way.

I’m sorry. This is my fault - I’m the one who totally derailed this thread. :o

To make up for it, for the OP’s rant about apt. shared noises, I’m gonna post about getting up to go potty* and, as I was standing up and reaching for the flushy handle … WHOOOOOOSH!

Not my toilet, but my apt. neighbor whose WC is apparently right next to mine, so for a bleary-eyed moment there, I thought … my toilet flushed itself? I was 50/50 proud/OMGWTF. Then I remembered about shared pipes and such, giggled like a dork (at my cat, who insists on supervising all human toilet visits) and wandered on back to bed.

  • I used to be able to make a proverbial sailor blush. I don’t even have kids to make me curb my language. WTF? Ok, fine: What The Fuck, and I got up to have myself a nice piss, and laid down an unexpected log while I was at it. There. Happy?

No, it is definitely a leaf-blower. I see the thing every day. For the last 4 years. Seriously, every day. Pouring rain (frequent occurrence in Seattle), the occasional snow, whatever. EVERY day. But that is the least of my concerns because it only lasts 30-45 minutes. The music people are going to last until I stab them in their fucking faces.

I derailed as well. Apologies. We live about 3/4 mile across the river from a trainyard. It is necessary for engineers to announce they are coming into the yard, moving around within it and departing too. Of course, this must be done full blast at unpredictable times throughout the night. You know how people say ya get used to this after a few years? 15 years on, nope.

I did that! It was long ago, in my high school. There was a live band, too close to the library, where I was trying to study. After an hour of it, I did exactly that: chopped the power cord.

(I was gonna just yank the cord from the socket, but it was screwed into place and I couldn’t. So I escalated.)

(Didn’t get caught, either, and the statute of limitations has long since expired.)

Only 6 months? I live in the area, more or less, and I close my window rarely more than a week out of the year (on those few days I have concerns about my plumbing freezing up).

That seems to be a thing. Brooms are not acceptable, they require muscle power, so those reverse-vacuum-cleaners are used to sweep lots. It is not really about leaves, more about dust, butts and debris. And it it certainly healthier for the lot worker to be breathing all that dust than it would be for them to get tuckered out with a broom.

In my experience, people can neither shut the fuck up nor sit fucking still for more than a goddamn minute.

Comes with the territory, princess. The quietest place I ever lived was in a concrete-reinforced condo building with no grass within half a mile in every direction. It’s the second-best way to escape ambient lawn-maintenance racket (first best goes to purchasing a home in the center of a few acres of land).

In that condo, my upstairs neighbors could do group jumping jacks in their living room and I’d never have known.