Ninapintasantamaria's Blog











{December 25, 2008}   Neighbors are morons

When we first moved here, we had the nicest neighbor.  He turned out to be my dad’s high school principal.  Heh Heh!!  That was great.  I got some ammo.  Disaster struck, and he moved.  Oh. I’m so disgusted.  He’s been replaced by this complete neanderthal and his wife.  I never see his wife unless he’s not home, and have never laid eyes on his daughter.  So yesterday,  I was angry at my husband for not wanting to go to my gp’s house, remember?  Well, I didn’t mean to, but I spun the tires in the mud and got some on the guy’s driveway.  We’ve had discussions with him before about stupid shit like that, and my husband has never let me speak with him.  He seems to be afraid the guy’s gonna say something he shouldn’t to me, and then he’ll have to defend my honor.  Hasn’t he figured out, I don’t have any honor to defend?  I mean, really, I can out cuss a sailor!  I told you about my ability to scare surgeons!  Trust me, I think I can handle this guy.  He’s not nearly as smart as a surgeon.  Well.  I think I’ve figured out a way to fix him.  I’m gonna write a letter to his wife.  I’m gonna tell her that I’m concerned for her and her daughter’s wellfare and that in my opinion, her husband’s suffering from either bipolar disorder, or dementia.  If the first, he could get violent, if he hasn’t already, and needs medication.  If the second, well he could also get violent and could be involuntarily committed until we get his meds sorted out.  I plan to document all the stupid things he’s hollered at my husband about, and tell her I’m keeping a copy of this letter, in case she needs to get out of there in a hurry.  I’m gonna offer her to come over to my house to escape.  Please let me know if I can be of any assistance, etc.  The way I see it, he’ll either never speak to us again for fear of giving more evidence, or we’ll turn out to be best friends.  No normal person would ever come back over and bother us after that.    Hah.  He just came to the door.  I answered.  He wanted to see my husband.  I told him in no uncertain terms that it was Christmas, and we were headed to his mother’s for breakfast, and that I didn’t think so.  Could I help him?  He backed right down.  “Well he probably talked to you, and someone did it again last night.”  I told him that we’d told our friends repeatedly not to do that, and we would tell them that they couldn’t come back over if they couldn’t mind their manners.  No problem.  If he comes back over yelling at my husband, I’ll write his wife.  We’ll never hear from him again.  I told my husband that if the guy was ugly to me, which he wouldn’t be, but that if he was, I could get in his face with the best of ’em.  If he tried to call the cops on me, quite frankly, I think they would laugh at him.  I’ve outlined my dimensions before.  This guy’s like, 6’3″?  Maybe 250 lbs?  Yeah.  It would make the news.  Hysterical.  I told my husband “Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got this covered.”  Heh.  Take a page out of Geohde’s book.  Yes I did.

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