Return of the Drunken Neighbors

drunk neighbor chick

This should really be Part Two: Return of the Drunken Neighbors. Unfortunately I never did get around to writing part one.
So, I sum up…..

Two weeks ago there’s a knock at my door. It’s about 11:30 at night so naturally I’m wide awake. I open the door and see Jenn and Adam, my neighbors. They are pretty close to plowed condition. I let them in.
I’m easily amused at the expense of others and it had been a boring evening.

The next thing I know they’ve found my stash of two (count ’em two) wine glasses and produce a bottle of wine. Yeppers they surely needed more to drink.
It was delightful watching someone else make total asses of themselves, after all.

Things quickly went downhill. Adam and Jenn finished the bottle off, broke one of my wine glasses, listened to every Prince CD I own at maximum volume, found the on switch to my Peavey amps (which they cranked to 11) and sang along with aforementioned Prince songs.
I have tenure in this building so no one ever complains about the music. Heh. Fucking Plebes.

Anyway, by 2:00 am I’m as amused as I’m gonna be. Particularly after Jenn finds my toy box (the bedroom is where the computer is) and asks about the accouterments and why do I have all that rope?
I make a witty comment and maneuver their asses to the front door, not letting it hit them in the ass on the way out.
At 3:00 a.m. there’s a knock on the door. Yes I’m still awake. Yes it is Jenn and Adam again. I let them in and get them back OUT within 30 minutes.
So that would be Part One.

Part Two: Return of the Drunken Neighbors

Last night I was contemplating walking over to XOXO to hear Mark and Mister Vague. Had already done the traditional Annual Solstice Celebration with TK and was dressed to hit the town. Instead I thought “aw screw it staying inside where it’s warm sounds pretty good”.
A foolish mistake.

Now mind you, I blog with one main credo:
Never let the truth get in the way of a good story
In this case every damned word is true. You cannot make this shit up.

There’s a knock on the door last night. It’s…. just Jenn;  asking if she could borrow my phone because her cell was dead.
Me, being an idiot, says okay. She calls her boyfriend and tells me he’ll be there in a few, can she hang out till then.
‘Okay’ says the idiot.
Oh wait, she AND her 8 year old daughter.

So, I find out that Adam is not Jenn’s one and only. Not to mention that she has a daughter who lives with her. Apparently the management company doesn’t know about the kid and Jenn is afraid they’ll find out.
Maybe she’ll have to pay a $100.00 deposit for having an ankle biter in her apartment. I had to do the same for the cat so I feel her pain.

After her inebriated boyfriend arrives I go in to check my email -because I have no fucking life- then come back out to the living room.
To witness those morons going to town on my couch. My formerly pristine couch. The kid is dead asleep on the floor.

Finally got the fuckers (literally) out of the house before midnight.

The finale took place this morning.
There’s a knock at the door (this is getting old isn’t it) and it is ‘the boyfriend.’ I’m sure he told me his name last night but since I didn’t care it was not stored in the memory banks.
“I need to get Jenn’s shoes.” says boyfriend
“Whaaaaa?” say I.
“She left her shoes here last night” he says
“Whaaaaa?” say I.

There on the floor by the couch are a pair of tennies, that are not mine.
I can only surmise that she and boyfriend and small child walked home across the frozen icy snow covered parking lot barefoot.
That’s some serious drinking there Lou.

Tonight I’m putting a sign on the door:
Rachael’s Home for Wayward Neighbors
Now please get the fuck away

Talk about the Surreal Life. Sheesh.
What did I tell you? You just can’t make this shit up.

~Miss R

Currently listening:
Gustav Holst: The Planets, Op 32
By: Gustav Holst
Release date: 25 October, 1990

33 thoughts on “Return of the Drunken Neighbors

  1. ****knock knock knock***

    Merry Christmas Rache, are you home? I’m to sotally wuckin’ fasted. D’ya have somethin’ to drink? Rache? Lemme in, it’s cold and I’m nekkid! Rache?



  2. define celebrate….
    -singing- baby roasting on an open fire, jack frost walking all his ho’s…

    just another night in reno!

    and if you’re drunk and in the neighborhood you know where to hang out. my door is open.


  3. No idea who you are, and was on another site when I saw YoYoDyne on the blogroll. Your title was stolen from Tim Powers’ “Last Call.”

    Shame on you. Give credit where credit is due.


  4. I don’t know who you are either. As far as something being stolen what the hell are you talking about?
    yoyodyne originally came from the book i robot by isaac asimov, but i use it as a nod to the film Buckaroo Banzai.

    As for ‘return of the drunken neighbors’? It Was return of the drunken neighbors and i have no idea who Tim Powers is.
    If you had read back farther in my blogs you would have seen mention of my not writing the ‘drunken neighbors’ blog. on two occasions.

    it’s alright. i accept your apology.


  5. This reminds me of the irrate mail I got for “plagiarizing William Goldman’s font” in my book.

    Hello? I did not type set that book Time Warner did. Come to think of it, they type set William Goldman’s book too. Coincidence you think? Or conspiracy? [cue evil laughter]


  6. Damn you Rachael Black. You are too smart for me.

    [Fortunately I have spit wads which no smart person can out maneuver]

    [Also small childlike persons who might be small children I have borrowed without consent — seeing as there is no possible way I could actually launch a spit wad.]


  7. spit wads are over-rated. small children certainly are.
    gah when they get to be teenagers they begin to plagiarize… you.

    i could use a few minions though. may i borrow a few of your spare small children? am willing to pay the going rate.


  8. Yes of course but you have to give them back without frostbite their handlers were all abut frostbite [look do not ask I am in Southern Cal I have no idea except maybe they took those child in the refrigerator jokes too seriously jeez].


  9. Jesus Christ! We totally need more tinfoil. Or aluminum foil. Or just fucking foil!

    I am going to the grocery right now. Clearly some spurrient conspiracy group has pilferred my foil stash. Damn them. They. Will. Pay.


  10. RB, MAX,
    sorry. i was talking with the dolphins. they assure me that your foil supply is safe. your hats – both of you – just need adjusting. i must warn you however that i feel their assurances may be ingenuine. they may be part of something bigger and more hellish than even we can imagine. i’d stock up just in case. aluminium works just as well though. so i’ve been told. but who can you believe?

    (parts of the preceding paranoid diatribe may have been thieved …nice word thieved, think i’ll steal it…oh wait…)


  11. Okay I nominate Donna for secret club membership. Unless she is unsane. That could be a problem. Hmm. No, I thik she is okay. She used the word ingenuine. What same person would… oh wait. kind of a problem here….

    [Also would someone please quite the dolphins down already jeez they make a racket]


  12. donna is definitely in. she/he is obviously unsane which beats insane by a mile. or furlong depending on your methaphor-of-the-day.

    max, thank god you recognized the immediate need for a rotation of tinfoil stock.
    otherwise… well i shudder to think of the consequences.
    especially if we were to make a move on porpoise.


  13. Re: ingenuine, I did not coin it. I may have thieved it inadvertently or was forced to use it by the pirate that was present here late last night (as always). Irregardless, for all intensive porpoises it doesn’t matter. It’s ‘just milk under the bridge’ as we say.

    I am indeed unsane. And unane as well. But I wear it well. A little old fashioned but…might just be my foil hat and socks. My foil inventory has been compromised as well. I was barely able to finish covering all the windows before I ran out. I didn’t want to arouse suspicion by restocking all at once so I made numerous stops and bought just a roll or two at each. Now, in foil and crazy, were all stocked up here.

    Glad to be on, bored

    (BTW, how do like my new font? Feel free to use it with impurity)


  14. donna, you’re the one who bought out the foil in reno? dammit. i had to drive all the way to sparks last night to finish the final touches on the car windows.
    i thought hell, if the house needs protection then god only knows what i’m susceptible to out on the streets. in the OPEN for chrissake.
    nice font by the way. are you sure that it is available for free? i just read a story about a guy who used verdana in his blog and was then arrested and sent to Gitmo.


  15. no. i swear i only bought a few at each stop. those bastards must have been following me and figured out what i was up to. they are the ones buying it all up in some 80’s Huntesque twist to the conspircacy.

    nevermind, once your compound is secure and stocked you need not leave unless the ammo issue arises.

    this new font is free to use. the story you read about is an urban myth. it was actually some guy blogging on his laptop on a veranda and was sent a gimlet by another guest. hope this puts you at ease.


  16. donna are you positive?
    could have sworn that tin-foil-(ass)hat-client-guy told me to beware of potential anti-anti-anti conspirators.
    oh wait. he hasn’t paid me. screw him and the advice he rode in on.

    my god thanks for the heads up on the veranda/verdana thing.
    fucking gin.

    i feel better already. of course it could be this hot buttered rum. it never lies.


  17. Ok, I reread this story again and laughed just as hard. Rachael, that’s so…neighborly of you. You are going to get the couch steam cleaned, right?

    Are you sure you didn’t borrow Max’s old neighbors?


  18. i begged max for her neighbors. but no. i had to find bottom-feeders of my own. she is such a biatch.
    not sharing is so cruel.
    speaking of cruel i have my own wanna-be goth child AND her wanna-be goth friend spending the night.
    pass the rum will you please?

    bless you my child. you have made my evening. will let you know how the steam-cleaning and clorox treatment goes…


  19. you can have my neighbors. bring the zamboni. they’re piling up. the basement is full and the ground is frozen. but it is quiet around here now. except when the tunes go to volume 11 (regularly) but i rather enjoy that and i’m not getting any complaints anymore, oddly enough. you may also borrow (permanently) the midget attorney that knocks like a woodpecker on my wall outside my chambers every morning. he might be hard to catch though. i’ve tried.

    if you’re going to invite the neighbors over for an impromptu orgy on occasion you might want to consider leather furniture. clean-up is much easier. well, at least it works for me.


  20. hmmm leather furniture? sounds as if things could get a bit sticky, if you know what i mean and i know that you do.
    was thinking something more along the lines of replaceable slip-covers. whaddaya think?

    ph for the love of god keep that freakish attorney away from chez noir.
    as for your other ex-neighbors the zamboni is available for body transportation.
    given last night’s storm perhaps you can stash the bodies in a snowbank?


  21. Oh, no, honey. This is child’s play. My neighbors drink and shoot guns. Fortunately, they normally shoot toward the farms behind us and not toward my house, but if that @$$hole eva points that thing this way, he will need it surgically removed.

    I was rid of Jenn and Adam and what’s his name a decade ago. Thankfully.


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