These Kids Today…

The latest new addition to the ever-changing cast of Redneck Hillfolk who inhabit Ye Olde Apartment Complex has developed an interesting new hobby:  Playing very loud music at 3 in the morning.  Now, I don’t know if it’s “real” music like a CD or what-not and I just don’t know the band, or if they’re over there playing Rock Band (badly), or if they’re in an actual band that just sucks.  But for the past 2 weekends, it has been like living next door to the Copa Cabana, only nobody’s giving me any fruity drinks.

So Friday night, Chuckweasel comes over after the bar (about 3-AM-ish) and hears the “concert.”  And he says to me, “You’re a law dog, can’t we call the cops or something?”  And I was like, yeah, we CAN, but I’ve only ever been on the RECEIVING end of the disturbing the peace calls, never the instigator!  I kinda think that’s how you can tell you’re getting old!

Turns out, there is a whole chart of Times/Activities with the Weasel — like what activity is okay to do at what time, and so on.  I just always stuck to the campground rules that Dear Sweet Mama and her Dear Sweet Parents instilled in me as a child:  don’t make noise between 10pm and 10am.   

Those rules also work for phone calls — I have been known to tear UP a telemarketer for calling at 9 in the morning.



Filed under He's the DJ I'm the Rapper, Just Call Me Beavis, La Vida Loca, WTF???, Ye Olde Apartment Complex

24 responses to “These Kids Today…

  1. My Mother in law lives in a townhouse and has started to go over to the neighbours house at 11 AM because their teen sons have one of those kick boxing bags in the garage that they keep hitting and she says it makes quite a racket! She has also gone over because the woman had the AUDACITY to put her music on at 3pm and gone up to have a shower….

    All of this to say… Hoody you know your getting old when you make noise complaints in broad daylight!! Your still good for now!


  2. I have similar rules, no calls 9pm-9am unless it”s an emergency, if the phone rings after 9 someone has died….sadly the MIL hasn’t understood this rule so I’ve had many a 11pm wake-up heart attack. On the same rule we believe in no noise 10:30pm-8:30am, it’s considerate ya’ll. But this week I’ve had the tv cranked high since I’m going deaf from the plague, poor neighbour…


  3. The Management braindeads once called me at 7:45 in the bloody AM. I have no idea what they wanted, since I only lifted the receiver and screamed “What the FUCK is wrong with you?” and slammed it down.
    Nothing was ever said about it later. Ever.
    I giggled inside. A lot.


  4. Thankfully, my crazy ass neighbors are in bed and restrained pretty early. 3am? Oh HELL no!


  5. Dear Sweet Mama

    Living behind the Wendy’s and the bowling alley, as we do for a while still, we get the sound of the truck unloading all those fresh hamburgers at 11:30pm (for some reason, the first year we lived here I thought it was someone on a skateboard) and then the drunks yelling at each other in the parking lot of the b.a. before deciding to make up and go to Wendy’s. Now that I stopped the newspaper I no longer must deal with the paper lady pulling into the driveway at 5a. If I could only teach your Dear Sweet Brothers to quit calling at 10p or later I would have it made.


    • The Brothers were raised by wolves, all know this. And quitcher bitchin’, you living behind Wendy’s is the only way we found out their burgers really DO come in fresh every day!


  6. I haven’t got the patience at 3am to be very polite about things like bad music.


    • I think it’s that I’ve trained myself to be occasionally deaf in one ear to avoid Chuckweasel’s snoring… so I just keep the working ear mooshed into the pillow and call it a night!


  7. Huh… maybe I’m old, but I’ll usually go over to the neighbor’s place and be all apologetic and polite, and say, “Hey, would you mind turning down that SHIT you call music?” I think deep down they appreciate that I just came over instead of calling the cops.

    I didn’t even get stabbed by the domestic dispute neighbors I use to have back when I learned that if you beat the shit out of a girl and she is carted away in an ambulance you can be out of jail by 7AM.. “Can you keep your fistfights down? Maybe throw some quieter furniture around? Also, the sobbing has got to stop between 10AM and 10PM. I’d appreciate.”


    • “Could you maybe throw some pillows instead of dishes? Just out of consideration…” Somebody did go to their door and bitch Friday, but all the dude did was slam the door and then the shitty music got LOUDER. Complaint FAIL.


  8. “Listen MR. If you throw her through one more plate glass window between the hours of 9pm and 9am, I will have no choice but to use this frying pan on your ass, KAPISH????”

    That would have worked Laurxra!!


  9. Last year some new stores were being built near my house. Every morning at 7:00 the hosue would rattle when they set off their dynamite. I called the City to complain, and they said 7:00 was the starting point! What?! They’re allowed to blow up my neighbourhood at 7 am?! Yeah.


    • I got that when the Hobo Handyman (seriously, he looks like he should be ridin’ the rails!) was tearing the shingles or something off the roof (3 stories above me). I’d come home from work, lay down to nap, and there’d be this “SCRRREEEEEEK” then a pause, then “THUMP.” Turns out he was just throwing the old shit down the stairwell… at 9am!


  10. We live near a military base. Every now and again, they set off “ordnance” which I guess is military speak for “old shitty bombs.”

    You do not know fear until you’ve heard an effing BOMB go off at 10 pm, particularly when they were doing it after 9/11. Why they always seem to set them off around the 9-10 pm mark is anybody’s guess.

    Before we bought this house, we lived in a series of increasingly craptastic apartments. We had everything from the domestic abusers next door who kicked their preschoolers outside every day to fend for themselves, to the party at 3 am in the apartment below, to the people who dropped beer bottles and cigarette butts off their balcony onto our front stoop. The last place was what drove Hubs to take out a loan and buy the house.


    • I used to rent a house up on top of a hill above the very bad housing projects. You could stand on the back porch and play everyone’s favorite game, “Firework or Gunshot?”


  11. A friend of mine recently called the cops on some kids who were letting off fireworks in the park next to his house. After he’d called, he felt like a complete dick, but you can’t call off the cops after you’ve called without getting charged with something yourself, so he had to watch them get kicked out of the park. He thought about
    making it up to them by leaving a six pack of beer for them to find, and then he realized some kid kids might find it, and now he doesn’t know what to do…


  12. In college, we had neighbors across the hall, in apartment 6, that were always fighting. We were in apartment 8. Of course, we couldn’t really expect anyone to know that since our building was getting painted and the numbers weren’t on our doors for three months. Only a slight indent where the numbers used to be. However, about the 15th time in a week that the cops showed up at my apartment at the butt crack of dawn I was about ready to get abusive myself. I believe I yelled something like “you were here yesterday, the day before, and five days in a row before THAT! GET A FREAKING CLUE!!!!”


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