Are there ever good neighbors? The ones we have here, the ones I'm closest to, are shit. They have this dog that they never let out of the yard, never inside, never take it for walks, and it barks constantly. It barks at it's shadow, it barks at koalas, it barks at who-the-fuck-knows-what. It barks when they go out there and tease it with this annoying squeaking toy thing, only to be shouted at when it barks. I have to listen to all of this: the squeaking, the barking and the yelling. My neighbors are shit.
The worst thing is the boyfriend. The woman who owns the house must be in her fifties, and she has this boyfriend who's famously stupid around town. He is renowned for starting bush fires back in the eighties during the Ash Wednesday fires. Apparently he was caught going back to the scene of one of his blazes that didn't quite take. What I wanna know is how can you fuck up starting a bush fire? Leave it to a Portland person to find out.
Anyway, he has this car. I dunno what it is, I've only ever heard the fucking thing. It's so loud it rattles our house. My room shakes whenever the fucker pulls up. And he doesn't just drive up and turn the thing off, he sits there in the driveway with the engine idling. I swear he does it to piss me off. If the house ever needs work on the foundations, that fucker is getting the bill, I swear.