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Doggy Doo On a Village Woods Balcony
Well, the kooky neighbors are at it again at Village Woods. The upstairs neighbor finally rented her apartment to, wait for it, a weirdo. But before I go on and on about the new weirdo upstairs, I feel the need to explain about the sliding glass doors at Village Woods, as they will be figuring large and loud in to the story...
The sliding glass doors look and act like any sliding glass door from the late 70s. They are heavy and they slide, metal-on-metal, into fairly well-seated groves. The sound, however, is worse than anything the 70s wrought and the 70s wrought a lot of loud noise (Iron Butterfly? Anyone?). Especially over wood-framed ticky-tack with no insulation. "Noise from a sliding glass door? Come on," I hear you saying. To which I answer: come over at about 4:20 a.m. any weekday morning or 5:00 a.m. on weekends and you can hear what it sounds like.
Scratchy metal death. Loud, booming, scratchy metal death. It has awakened me and my wife (who officially wants to have nothing to do with this blog, the other blog or the website) every morning since the new neighbors moved in. At 11:30 p.m. And placed a lot of stuff on the balcony, by opening the sliding-glass-gates-of-hell each time.
Welcome neighbor.
Now we come to the dogs. Oh, dogs. I actually like dogs. I pet them, I scratch behind their ears. I talk baby talk to them, embarrassing their owners and anyone else near enough to hear a grown man talking baby talk to a dog he's never met.
I am 100% sure I would pet, scratch and babble to the dogs upstairs. During regular business hours! The problem is that the neighbor is... how should I put this... retarded, lazy and evil? No, too offensive. Lazy idiot? Yes, that's it.
Evidence? She lets the dogs out to do doo doo on the balcony above me every morning between 4:20 and 5:00 a.m. Four twenty? In the morning!? Are you blankety-blank kidding me? Four twenty in the a.m.? Even the stoners next door are asleep for this 4:20.
And, of course, the glass-sliding-gates-of-hell are what have wakened us from sound slumber each morning since the above-mentioned lazy idiot moved in. Why lazy, you ask? Good question, I answer. Then I expound...
I have never seen or heard those dogs being walked --and I'm a nosy neighbor. Aren't you supposed to walk your dogs in the morning and at night so they do their doo doo at decent hours? If the neighbors upstairs from me did this, they wouldn't have to let the dogs do that doo doo that they do so well on the balcony above me. The wife swears she smelled dog pee this morning. But I would put up with the smell it if the upstairs neighbor weren't also an idiot.
"Idiot," you ask? To which I remind you that I previously called the upstairs neighbor a lazy idiot, not just lazy. And here's how I know. A lazy person would not walk the dogs and then, when they woke her up at, say, FOUR IN THE GODDAMNED MORNING!, she would let them out to poo, pee and click their claws on the balcony. A lazy idiot would open the loud doors-from-hell instead of keeping them open just enough for the dogs to go out. This would keep downstairs neighbor (one with four blogs, a YouTube account and a penchant for performance art) from going dog-doo-crazy on you. And, no, Dog-Doo Crazy On You is not a heavy metal song from the 70s.
But it will be the name of the documentary I'm doing on the lazy idiot from hell upstairs. So stay tuned, kids...
Here's something you might be interested in.
Doggy Doo On a Village Woods Balcony
Doggy Doo On a Village Woods Balcony
Well, the kooky neighbors are at it again at Village Woods. The upstairs neighbor finally rented her apartment to, wait for it, a weirdo. But before I go on and on about the new weirdo upstairs, I feel the need to explain about the sliding glass doors at Village Woods, as they will be figuring large and loud in to the story...
The sliding glass doors look and act like any sliding glass door from the late 70s. They are heavy and they slide, metal-on-metal, into fairly well-seated groves. The sound, however, is worse than anything the 70s wrought and the 70s wrought a lot of loud noise (Iron Butterfly? Anyone?). Especially over wood-framed ticky-tack with no insulation. "Noise from a sliding glass door? Come on," I hear you saying. To which I answer: come over at about 4:20 a.m. any weekday morning or 5:00 a.m. on weekends and you can hear what it sounds like.
Scratchy metal death. Loud, booming, scratchy metal death. It has awakened me and my wife (who officially wants to have nothing to do with this blog, the other blog or the website) every morning since the new neighbors moved in. At 11:30 p.m. And placed a lot of stuff on the balcony, by opening the sliding-glass-gates-of-hell each time.
Welcome neighbor.
Now we come to the dogs. Oh, dogs. I actually like dogs. I pet them, I scratch behind their ears. I talk baby talk to them, embarrassing their owners and anyone else near enough to hear a grown man talking baby talk to a dog he's never met.
I am 100% sure I would pet, scratch and babble to the dogs upstairs. During regular business hours! The problem is that the neighbor is... how should I put this... retarded, lazy and evil? No, too offensive. Lazy idiot? Yes, that's it.
Evidence? She lets the dogs out to do doo doo on the balcony above me every morning between 4:20 and 5:00 a.m. Four twenty? In the morning!? Are you blankety-blank kidding me? Four twenty in the a.m.? Even the stoners next door are asleep for this 4:20.
And, of course, the glass-sliding-gates-of-hell are what have wakened us from sound slumber each morning since the above-mentioned lazy idiot moved in. Why lazy, you ask? Good question, I answer. Then I expound...
I have never seen or heard those dogs being walked --and I'm a nosy neighbor. Aren't you supposed to walk your dogs in the morning and at night so they do their doo doo at decent hours? If the neighbors upstairs from me did this, they wouldn't have to let the dogs do that doo doo that they do so well on the balcony above me. The wife swears she smelled dog pee this morning. But I would put up with the smell it if the upstairs neighbor weren't also an idiot.
"Idiot," you ask? To which I remind you that I previously called the upstairs neighbor a lazy idiot, not just lazy. And here's how I know. A lazy person would not walk the dogs and then, when they woke her up at, say, FOUR IN THE GODDAMNED MORNING!, she would let them out to poo, pee and click their claws on the balcony. A lazy idiot would open the loud doors-from-hell instead of keeping them open just enough for the dogs to go out. This would keep downstairs neighbor (one with four blogs, a YouTube account and a penchant for performance art) from going dog-doo-crazy on you. And, no, Dog-Doo Crazy On You is not a heavy metal song from the 70s.
But it will be the name of the documentary I'm doing on the lazy idiot from hell upstairs. So stay tuned, kids...
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