neighbors sometimes suck

As I said I would, here is the second post for the day. I just went to enroll Zanaya in school in Springfield, and the weather is so Spring-like I could have been wearing shorts. I say this only because it is so late in the school year to be moving the kid…

Damn it, the fucking upstairs neighbor is out on the front step loudly calling someone a fucking bitch. Earlier today - and this is no exaggeration - she came downstairs by herself, opened the front door and shouted, “It’s my birthday bitches!” to nobody in particular. I tell you, everything about this asshole is shouted out loud. I don’t want to know when she browbeats her mother on the phone for not allowing her to do laundry at her parents’ house, but she makes sure I know. I don’t want to know when she is out in the street calling people niggas, all white 200 lbs of her, but I know it. I don’t want to know that her boyfriend - I’m sorry, her “baby daddy” (did I mention this asshole is white?) - is going to beat up on so-and-so when he gets out of jail, but I know it. I don’t want to know it when the boyfriend gets arrested in the house (twice), or that he beats up on her from time to time (she came knocking on my door in the middle of the night for help with a raging boyfriend. Thankfully he’s a coward, so I asked him to leave and he did.).

Fuck it, this is consuming my time. Unfortunately I can’t get away from it since so much of her life takes place on the front step outside my window, smoking cigarettes and hanging with friends. The friends are another story altogether, but I won’t get into it just now. Suffice to say I am not happy with them.