My New Neighbors

Well, gentle reader, you may not know me that well. So I'll tell you most clearly and with sincerity... I am a live and let live girl. I do not have the worst house on my street, but I sure don't have the best one either. I have a kind of lazy "The leaves will eventually turn to mulch" yard care philosophy. I cast no stones with in my glass house.

BUT.

Oh man today was the end... The guy across the street from me put his giant house up for sale at a high price. He had lived there alone, and very quietly, for about 2 years. He bought it at auction (The previous owners breaking up house when the hubby started dressing as a woman and dating a transgendered "girl" from group therapy) My old neighbor, he was an odd one. The point of much speculation. He NEVER had license plates on his cars... came and went at odd hours. Never had women around. Had a few gatherings which seemed to include nothing but adolescent men. But hey, he kept the place nice.

He had no luck with selling. One day the sign changed to include "NEW Lower Price!" but still no luck. Then, one day, the sign was gone. Next day he was gone and that night the new neighbors moved in via a caravan of over loaded pick-up trucks, under cover of darkness.

There are like 472 of them. A bunch of dirty children, running about in a great herd. Not a single one in school for the last week and a half. A dilapidated and seriously Craptacular trailer is parked in the drive. People living in there. The garage is starting to look like a trailer park rec room (WRECK ROOM) with various pieces of scavenged from the dump furniture... I bet someone's living in there as well.

I came out of the gate the other day to this lovely tableau ~ Woman in the garage, her arm in the air... SHAVING HER PITS. Perhaps they came from a place where there were no bathrooms, showers and private places to shave your girly parts but I know there are two bathrooms over there.

Today is the topper. The icing on my "I gotta get the hell out of here" cake. Some sort of party I think. Truck pulls up with a horse trailer on the back. I leave for the store. When I return there is mariachi music blaring from a boom box (remember those?) with the scratchy have the crappy speakers too loud quality that makes it especially nauseating. Two guys (Caballeros?) on horses skittering around in the street. These are not happy horses. These are not well behaved horses. Number two daughter wants to know why that man is slapping his horse with a branch...

All 472 people from the house and trailer and garage combo living arrangement are on lawn chairs and various upholstered furniture in the drive, drinking beer (this is an everyday thing but usually without the horses) and watching the equine abuse/show/spectacle. The back of the trailer is down and the effluent that's run from inside (OH ITS GROSS) is puddled on the street.

Even now, as I write this, I can hear that most annoying of musical styles beating its way through my windows and into my poor beleaguered brain.

One of the herd of children whips out his little manhood and pees on the back of the trailer. (This boy looks to be around 9 or 10, surely old enough to know he should go around to the non-street side before peeing on the trailer)

I fear that if I mention my displeasure with any of this that I will be branded as a bigot. ("Hey, Chica, you just do not like the Mexican people.")

My only solace is the thought that they must surely be renters...