Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Meet Monty and Riley in the PT Crapper. Riley is on the left. We like to say Riley is a Democrat and Monty is a Republican. I'll explain that sometime in the future.


I am horrified. We went to see the Grand Pooba of Morons Christmas light display last night, and it wasn't there. This can't be happening to me. I spent hours sharpening my wit axe just to lay waste to his forest of foolishness. Did one of you guys call him and tell him I was on my way? This ain't fair. I drove 2600 miles to heckle him. I sure there is a law against this type of thing somewhere. Crap.

I awoke this morning at 4am. I was not happy. No, it was not The American Idiot Idol of Christmas Lights getting retribution. It was the business behind the trailerpark. The workers were loading trucks with forklifts at 4am about 25 yards from The Love Boat. The forklifts had the backup alarms that are extremely loud to overcome jobsite noise. You know the sound, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, etc, etc. Of course the semi-trucks blowing their airhorns didn't help either. Now let me start with this. I own and manage residential rental property. People whine to me about things I am and not responsible for on a daily basis. I detest whiners. Having said that, I didn't want to whine to the head trailerpark dude here. That wasn't going to happen. I didn't think it proper for me to whine to the morons next door either. Yes they are morons, they knew they were making noise and didn't care. I was mad enough to smack the fuzz off all their pointy heads. I knew I shouldn't go over there. If I called the police (Southerners say Pole Lease) they might do a Rodney King on me and that wasn't an option. I wasn't thinking clearly due to sleep deprivation, and I had a look on my face very similar to Monty's when I left him at the groomers. What was I going to do? Then Deb phoned and said that she found a whiners hot line for noise complaints . Now I have been californicated. Only in California could you find a hotline to whine to the police (remember the pronunciation). Deb told me that she had already called the hotline. I had a wave of horror flow over me that Guido and the boys next door were going to come over and start yet more trouble. Then Deb told me that the caller's identity is kept confidential. Here we go again. Only in California could this be possible. So, I thought that I should make a big sign that says, "HE CALLED THE WHINER HOTLINE" with an arrow pointing to Fancypant's House of Horrors. Maybe the sign should have a date of Fancypant's return. Now that would be an adequate solution to two separate problems. I never said that life in the trailerpark couldn't be fun.