New bad neighbors and stupid, stupid coworkers

We have new neighbors that are making us yearn for the quiet days of meth labs.

We used to have a perfectly nice neighbor, Barb, who one day suddenly decided to sell. Her place has sat empty on the market for months now. 3 weeks ago, someone moved in.

We can pinpoint the exact moment they arrived, because they do everything very loudly. They laugh loudly, they sing loudly, they argue loudly, and they party loudly. Last weekend they partied until about 1 a.m., their windows flung wide and their constant outbursts of laughter carrying through the night. This is one thing I hate about summer -- I love the nighttime breezes, but am also fond of quiet when it's time to sleep. And why should we have to close our windows when we aren't the ones being loud?

This weekend, to our dismay, they had another party. It started mid afternoon and by 5 p.m. Tery was already cursing the children throwing "poppers" around below our balcony. I tried to get her to join me at Ryan's to watch Dexter, but she wasn't feeling very well. As I walked past the party on my way to the parking lot, the first thing I noticed was the walkway and lawn were littered with crumpled cans and McDonald's wrappers. Oh HELL no. I called Tery from the car so she could monitor the situation.

It was about the time Tery saw the kids pull down our neighbor's bee catcher and smash it with a rock that she called our property manager. It was about the time she saw them messing with the mailboxes, trying to yank them open and shoving poppers inside, that she called the police. She also broke out the video camera; after about 5 minutes of taping, the kids noticed her and hightailed it.

So it was that for the second time in our tenure here, I was greeted by the sight of a police cruiser in the parking lot upon my return home. Tery was talking to the two officers as I climbed the stairs. They promised to speak to our neighbors, but said the HOA was really the proper channel to take care of such things. Really? I thought tampering with a mailbox was a federal offense.

Our property manager was very interested in the party indeed. Mainly because he had no idea anyone was even living there. The last he knew Barb had lost the title to the bank.

If you were living somewhere illegally, wouldn't you do as little as possible to draw attention to yourself? And maybe it's none of my business whether they belong there or not, BUT. If you want to trash your neighborhood, go live on Colfax. And if you want a backyard for your mini-Visigoths to wreak havoc, rent a fucking house.

The funny thing is, through this entire ordeal the Alcoholic never showed her face. Tracey leaves her screen door open and the place is going to hell in a handbasket. These people were tearing it up and she couldn't care less.

~*~

I've had my fill of the lack of common sense exhibited by my coworkers, and Tery's had her fill of listening to me complain about them. Rather than subject you to another tedious rant, I've chosen to present it in the form of a poll, because polls are the best way to remind myself that people truly don't care about my posts.

[Poll #1010209]

Those last two were trick questions. Tery tells me they were more of a miscommunication (unlocked door)/laziness (heavy bucket) issue than common sense. Damn inconsiderate is what I call it, since I was the one left to deal with both.

If this seems unnecessarily condescending of me, I assure you at one time or another a person or persons has made the wrong choice in all these instances. I just wanted to demonstrate how ridiculously simple the blunders in question would be to avoid, IF people had more common sense. Think about it, won't you? Thank you.

My weekend, in the smallest nutshell I can manage

Sunday Ryan invited me to Pride Fest -- actually, he invited Tery, who declined (she has an irrational fear of gay bashing, even though I'm pretty sure that, were homophobes to show up, they'd be decidedly in the minority). Ryan assumed I'd be too tired after working Saturday night. Foolish boy. Saturdays are usually very slow and I manage to sleep most of my shift away.

Megan was supposed to go, but sadly stayed out too late at the bar the night before. Boo. Happily, MyFriendDeb did go with us.

Sunday it was 100 degrees in Denver, so I was kind of glad Ryan didn't care about seeing the parade. We made our leisurely way downtown for the retail portion of the festivities, which turned out to be a lot like Taste of Colorado but with more rainbows. Honestly, these vendors think gays will buy anything as long as it's rainbow-colored (in some tasteless cases, they were right). I didn't see anything that appealed to me, telling myself that it would be pointless to buy jewelry when I only leave the house twice a week, and my only company is dogs when I do. I did cave and buy Tery a Black Ice Rugby shirt which I thought had many things going for it: 1) The logo was the classic, clean athletic style that she prefers, 2) it had "Denver" on it prominently; Tery takes great pride in local sports, 3) rugby is her new "favorite" sport, and 4) it's a lesbian team, which isn't obvious from the shirt. I had to have it -- the scantily clad players roaming the crowd trying to draw customers in were TOO cute.

Most people were wearing gay-themed T-shirts, which if you ask me is a bit of overkill. You're AT a gay pride festival with your girl/boyfriend hanging all over you -- you can't get much more out than that. I myself opted for my Serenity "Fruity Oaty Bar" shirt, which I'm sure threw most for a loop; with the exception of a delicious computer geek manning one booth who recognized it and commented. Yummy.

So apart from buying overpriced food (using the evil ticket system, so you don't realize you just paid $8 for a funnel cake and a bottle of water) there wasn't much to do but people-watch. Oh sure, there was a godawful lesbian band performing, which we quickly fled in favor of the opposite end of the park, where pretty shirtless boys were bumping and grinding to rave music. Ryan thought he'd died and gone to heaven, though I pointed out his chances of hooking up were slim indeed with Deb and I tagging along. I was just enjoying watching all the people: the boys kissing, the girls holding hands, the transexuals, the transvestites, the goths, the little baby butches. I wanted to stare and stare, not because I thought they were freakish, but because I couldn't get enough of them appearing so comfortable in the crowd, as if they were "normal."

The only hint of disapproval I spotted was a kid, a young man, walking alone carrying a bible with a stern look on his face. He didn't approach anyone though, perhaps trusting his presence to be sufficient to convey his message. Maybe he imagined himself walking among a den of lions.

But wow, was it hot. Just drinking water was an all too transient relief. I discovered it was much more effective to pour it straight down the back of my shirt. Considering the extreme heat and the very real danger of medical emergencies, it was quite galling that most booths were selling water for $2.50 a bottle -- with the exception of one selling "back alley" bottles for $1 (not tickets. "Don't tell anyone" the woman implored me). The temperature resulted in many of the crowd going topless (I've never wished more to be a boy) to Ryan's delight; but the coolest of them all had to be a boy clad only in a T-shirt and what from behind looked like girl's panties (Ryan assured me they had a Y-front though). If you ask me, that took more balls than the goth couple in full regalia with the girl leading the boy on a leash, and I'm sure came the closest to violating some public indecency law.

It was fun, but it was also good to leave. I passed out the minute I got home from heat exhaustion, not that our condo was any cooler.

~*~

Monday I tackled our balcony with a vengeance. First, fed up with being held hostage by pigeons that we in fact only see once every couple of weeks, I pulled down the chicken wire that has covered the front of it since last year. I then put it across the ceiling to protect just the rafters themselves. It was all very manly, butch work. I'll admit, as much as we enjoyed the feeling of enclosed privacy the previous setup inspired, opening it up created a sense of refreshing freedom, as if the fencing was keeping out the air.

I also bought a new screen door with the intention of installing a newfangled cat door designed for screens rather than glass. Yet another example of how "Easy to install!" is a highly misleading statement. But as difficult as that task was, I'm beginning to suspect it was a walk in the park compared to getting the cats to use the door. I'm the first to defend the superiority of cats over dogs, except in the area of training. They don't take kindly to having their heads pushed through the flap, that's for sure.

Now that the balcony is clean and habitable again, I'd like an excuse to spend more time out there. Towards that end, I've wanted a hammock for years and by gum, now I'm getting one.

The last order of the day was to get my used computer from eBay up and running. It arrived Friday (remember eBay rule #2) and I immediately saw why it was being sold for $35. It was a hideous, towering, ecru behemoth. Compared to my newer sportier black model, it looked like an industrial server. It came without an operating system, and I don't have any experience in rebuilding a completely blank machine. It wasn't easy, but few obstacles are any match for me when I'm determined.

First, the monitor wasn't communicating with it. I thought my LCD monitor wasn't compatible, but it turned out the video card had come loose from the motherboard (my thanks goes to my Sony Vaio that I had to open once a week to tweak sound and capture cards). Then when I tried to install Windows XP, I got hung up when it asked for an older version of Windows to verify my right to use XP (something like that); thank god I found an old Windows 98 disc I forgot I had. Then I thought I was home free until XP asked me for my product key. The disc was no longer in the original packaging and it turns out people on the hack message boards are pretty stingy when it comes to $100 licenses. I went back to my desk and, thank god x1000, dug up the product key. Luck was being every inch a lady for me. Until the last step, hooking up my internet. I fell into a cold, familiar panic when I started seeing the connection setup screens from my old wireless laptop days. I persisted, however; the whole reason I picked this auction was it promised to be "Great for high-speed internet!" Fortunately I remembered the trick that I always forget when it comes to my cable modem -- that simply unplugging it for 30 seconds resets it back on its merry way. This time was no exception.

So there we have it. A fully functioning, fully loaded (for work purposes anyway) computer for only $35. Not too shabby.

And that was my weekend! I wish I had a day off to recover.

~*~

Last but not least, please welcome my old friend Bear (lizzieloudotcom) to LJ. Be nice to her.