The oddest thing is when the ex-husband visits - to pick up or drop off one or more of the boys - he parks in the driveway in a manner which blocks the sidewalk. Well, that's irksome because: 1) there are plenty of places to park; 2) people actually use interpretation of New Urbanism. [But, remember, Ty.the sidewalks here. Strollers, kids on little bikes, scooters, the elderly out for a stroll, etc. all have to go around the car and into the street to walk. It's a thing with me. A little thing, but irky since it violates my "Urbanism" probably refers to there being cars somewhere, jerk. Noted.] But, and you agree, it's just clueless and a bit rude to send an old lady in a wheelchair into the street when your Lexus is parked over the sidewalk.
I guess Martha and familly are all on some sort of vacation of combination of vacations because Martha's house on our quiet little street has been rather active lately (now that I'm a haus frau, I notice more shit).
Teen-agers, dammit! Teen-agers!! I don't think I was such a pain in the ass during the 14-19 years. I'm sure I was though. But, man, what kind of old man have I become? The house-sitting god daughter (whatever the fuck that is) has had, uh, some friends over. Oh, and she parks blocking the sidewalk which is irksome (see above).
OK, so I didn't want to become one of those people. The self-serving, passive-aggressive asshole, old-man, HOA committee member, Mr. Pinch, motherfucker deserving a good old-fashioned TPing or ass whipping. Not in my back yard, don't walk on the grass, and hey, you can't paint your trim that color!
But, I did it. I don't know why. But, I did it. Last night, we had unseasonably mild July weather. So, the windows were open. God bless me, right? But, god daughter house sitter and retarded friends were making all kinds of racket out on the street (the public street). Boys and girls in and out, loud, stupid, maybe a little high or crunk, smoking, laughing, and just being kids. Kids and kid drama.
But they were so god awful typical. All dressed in, basically, uniforms befitting their stature and rank. A goddamn army of 18 year-old (oh yeah, the US Army is basically 18 too) fake skater/princesses. But, so typical. Maybe if they were geeks or art kids...naw, the geeks and art kids know better; they've never felt entitled like these goofs.
I tolerated the distraction to our peaceful community the best I could all weekend. I was an annoying kid once.B will be an annoying kid too. I'm still 'bout half annoying kid. But, fuck if it didn't get on my last old ass man nerve when I'm finally starting to doze off and the goddamn fucking loud ass look-at-me car stereo start up. On Sunday night even.
Two things to note:
- I also don't want to be one of those afraid-of-my shadow and teenager suburban fraidy cats that will allow these punks/pukes to dominate the paradigm whilst I hide in my air-conditioned mini-manse. Nope. That ain't gonna happen. And, I do know my neighbors, I know people saw me not only confront these varmints, but shut the whole thing down. I feel they were proud if not in awe. People gotta talk.
- Also, I don't want some paradigm changing kids to then begin to feel that they are unaccountable and unnoticed. This is not going to become their new posse crib or whatever the kids say about that sort of thing. Sorry, bitches, MY half-million dollar turf. Not yours. Shut. Up!
Oh, shit! I guess this is just genetically programmed for middle-aged dads or something: Anyway, I got up. Put my shorts and shirt on, grabbed my 3 D-cell Maglite (tm) cop ass flashlight and headed out the door (barefoot/glasses). OK, cut me some slack, I could have remedied the situation Brooklyn-style: "Shut the fuck up!" from out of the window. I could have yelled. But I figured that I'd be neighborly, brave, and mature.Oh God. I walked out the door. Walked across the street. Fired up the flashlight. I shouted, "Hey!" way too goddamn loud. It got quiet way too quickly. I pop the bright ass beam of light into the face of the god daughter. "Guys, c'mon! What are you doing? Take the noise somewhere else, like inside." I was the Hart Street RA all of a sudden.
Now, I'm simultaneously listening to myself and wonder who the fuck I was anymore? The god daughter immediately begins, "Oh, you're a neighbor. I'm so sorry. My bad!" If she would have stopped at "sorry" I probably would have just said thanks and moped back home. But, "my bad?" Speak English motherfucker. "My bad?" That's how you talk now? Stolen, abused language now. You're now Snoop Dogg. You're not even Chris Tucker.
"My bad?" I repeat. "Yeah, my bad. Sorry" is what I hear.
So, I begin: "Martha's not going to be happy; especially if someone calls the cops." What am I saying. Is it valuable lesson time? "Martha's not going to be happy." I repeated. Jesus, what was that? It was so weak, I repeated it. God daughter says, "I know. I know. My bad." Church lady lecture.
"Nice try" is all I can get out as more confused than angry or anything make my way back home. I don't even know what "nice try" even meant in that context.
Well, it got quiet, which was good. If I were a kid there, I would have totally laughed at this guy. I might have even said, "hey, why dont' you shut up, old man." But, I really killed my brand as the cool/guy dad. I guess I'm glad B didn't have to witness this embarrassment.
I feel I should apologize to god daughter and ask for a do-over.
What would I do over? Probably approach the entire situation with more measure and helpfullness. Rather than shut it down, warn of consequences (having police called, ass whipped, etc.). "Hey guys, you're gonna get in trouble...." What?! It's that pandering, entitling responsibility-sharing that makes this happen. Just shut up, kids. How's that?
Naw. Fuck them. I did what I did and I remain the goddamn sheriff. I learned 'em. Go away from me with your noise, teen-agers. Old guys rule, OK?
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Note: I see there was a morning after "talking to." Ha!
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