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o l d-----n e w-----l a s t-----n e x t-----m e-----y o u-----m a i l-----n o t e s-----r i n g s-----

my neighbours are direct descendants of satan

27/08/01 @ 11:49 p.m.

I hate my neighbours with a beautiful and evil passion. And I can’t get Frontier Psychiatrist out of my head.
The worst is the Loud Family Robinson, a few doors down from us. Their kid screams all day. Literally all day. I don’t know if she’s a nut (or crazy in the coconut) but she seems to scream to communicate. She’ll run around the garden just screaming, she’ll scream to get attention, she’ll scream when she’s excited and she’ll scream when she’s upset. That girl needs therapy. We thought at first she was being abused, but she does it when she’s on her own. And her parents are the loudest human beings in the history of mankind. They don’t ever talk, they just shout. And they shout til 2 in the morning, sitting out in the garden. And I know I’m always awake at 2am anyway, but it’s annoying on principle. And they’re as thick as pig shit, so it’s not like they even shout anything interesting.
The guy next to us seems nice enough but he’s wicked nosey, and we always have to draw the curtains so we don’t feel like he’s looking in. The guys whose garden backs onto us are always straining to get a tan out on their patio, so anytime I’m on the pc in mum’s room they look up like I’m a peeping tom, the vain bastards. Their house-warming party had a bunch of people shouting out how they wanna string up the niggers at the end of the street, and me and Griffs shouting back at them to shut the fuck up, and them throwing bottles over at us. Nice folks. And clever, too cuz they called me a nigger and I’m as pale as Phil Collins is bland. Bad enough you gotta be thick enough to be racist, but to be so dumb as to not even notice the skin colour of the people you’re throwing that word at...
The people who live next door to us on the other side have a nine year old girl who shouts and squeals all the time, and she’s starting early on the teenage door-slamming. She also sings a lot, but makes sure to get it out of tune for that extra piss-me-off effect. And she feels the need to sing in the garden, not in the house where walls might take the edge off it. This week her and her friends have been singing bits of Eternal Flame, but only the three lines they know. Over and over again. And I know they were singing the cover version not the original, I just know it!
And they all seem to have a strict rotor for lawn-mowing. Never at the same time, always one after the other to make the noise last as long as possible. Then the strimmers come out, then the barbecues where more loud fuckers can come shout more banalities at each other.
Anyway, this all results in me never being able to watch any decent TV or movies, which is what I live for. I’ve not watched Buffy for a week now, for the love of God! A geek without Buffy is like... uh... like me without a suitable metaphor. Fuck em all, I say. Let them go back to the hell they came from and let me have just ten minutes away from their shrieking. I want a soundproof house and a moat around my garden, I wanna hire a germ-warfare expert to come give them all laryngitis, and I wanna get Alan Titchmarsh to replace their lawns with astroturf. With them buried underneath.

b o o k m a r k s-----r u d i e s-----u p d a t e s-----m y--i l l n e s s -----m o v i e--r e v i e w s

Content and layout © Yawner, 2001. Hosted by Diaryland. Best viewed with IE5, probably pants with Netscape.


o l d-----n e w-----l a s t-----n e x t-----m e-----y o u-----m a i l-----n o t e s-----r i n g s-----







my neighbours are direct descendants of satan
27/08/01 @ 11:49 p.m.
I hate my neighbours with a beautiful and evil passion. And I can’t get Frontier Psychiatrist out of my head. The worst is the Loud Family Robinson, a few doors down from us. Their kid screams all day. Literally all day. I don’t know if she’s a nut (or crazy in the coconut) but she seems to scream to communicate. She’ll run around the garden just screaming, she’ll scream to get attention, she’ll scream when she’s excited and she’ll scream when she’s upset. That girl needs therapy. We thought at first she was being abused, but she does it when she’s on her own. And her parents are the loudest human beings in the history of mankind. They don’t ever talk, they just shout. And they shout til 2 in the morning, sitting out in the garden. And I know I’m always awake at 2am anyway, but it’s annoying on principle. And they’re as thick as pig shit, so it’s not like they even shout anything interesting. The guy next to us seems nice enough but he’s wicked nosey, and we always have to draw the curtains so we don’t feel like he’s looking in. The guys whose garden backs onto us are always straining to get a tan out on their patio, so anytime I’m on the pc in mum’s room they look up like I’m a peeping tom, the vain bastards. Their house-warming party had a bunch of people shouting out how they wanna string up the niggers at the end of the street, and me and Griffs shouting back at them to shut the fuck up, and them throwing bottles over at us. Nice folks. And clever, too cuz they called me a nigger and I’m as pale as Phil Collins is bland. Bad enough you gotta be thick enough to be racist, but to be so dumb as to not even notice the skin colour of the people you’re throwing that word at... The people who live next door to us on the other side have a nine year old girl who shouts and squeals all the time, and she’s starting early on the teenage door-slamming. She also sings a lot, but makes sure to get it out of tune for that extra piss-me-off effect. And she feels the need to sing in the garden, not in the house where walls might take the edge off it. This week her and her friends have been singing bits of Eternal Flame, but only the three lines they know. Over and over again. And I know they were singing the cover version not the original, I just know it! And they all seem to have a strict rotor for lawn-mowing. Never at the same time, always one after the other to make the noise last as long as possible. Then the strimmers come out, then the barbecues where more loud fuckers can come shout more banalities at each other. Anyway, this all results in me never being able to watch any decent TV or movies, which is what I live for. I’ve not watched Buffy for a week now, for the love of God! A geek without Buffy is like... uh... like me without a suitable metaphor. Fuck em all, I say. Let them go back to the hell they came from and let me have just ten minutes away from their shrieking. I want a soundproof house and a moat around my garden, I wanna hire a germ-warfare expert to come give them all laryngitis, and I wanna get Alan Titchmarsh to replace their lawns with astroturf. With them buried underneath.
	b o o k m a r k s-----r u d i e s-----u p d a t e s-----m y--i l l n e s s -----m o v i e--r e v i e w s







	Content and layout © Yawner, 2001. Hosted by Diaryland. Best viewed with IE5, probably pants with Netscape.