On the street where I live, there’s a lot of construction going on.
Let me preface this by saying, this used to be a nice, quiet little town where there was no such thing as obnoxious leaf blowers blowing leaves off the expensive landscaping of neighboring McMansions, or traffic composed of BMWs and Audis zooming by on the roads at all hours of the night. You know, simple, small-town life without rich assholes.
There’s nothing wrong with being rich, by the way. I want to be a rich myself, minus the asshole part. Right now I’m poor and an asshole, not a good combination. No, I’m not an asshole all the time, that would be exhausting. I’m just enough of an asshole to make life interesting and fun.
What’s that? Okay yes, I realize I may have mentioned once or twice that I thoroughly dislike suburban, small town living… but I never said I disliked the peace and quiet, okay?
Can we move on? (asshole).
Anyway, one of my neighbors is a builder and he’s been contracted by other neighbors to do additions on their houses, one of whom is right next door to me, which I previously mentioned in this posting. He’s still not dead, by the way.
It all started with one neighbor having Mr. Builder add a second floor to his already massive house… and we all know what happens when one guy in the neighborhood has what could be perceived as the biggest cock on the block… I mean, house on the block: The others get jealous and/or competitive.
Mr. Builder decided he didn’t want anyone outdoing him, so he began an addition on his own house by digging about fifteen feet into the bedrock, which is never a good sign. Now he’s in the process of adding on a monstrosity of an addition which blocks out half the fucking sky.
So I’m driving home yesterday and what do I see? A sign on another neighbor’s front yard stating a city permit has been submitted to allow for an addition to be built on the already big fucking house (maybe those weren’t the exact words) and I couldn’t be more disgusted.
So currently there are, let’s see… one, two, three, four, five… five goddamn houses on one block having construction going on! I live in a cul-de-sac too, it’s not like I live on one long street where it’s dispersed; there’s no getting away from it.
I’ve had to tolerate construction noise for the past year while these men waggle their weenies in front of one another and get into a pissing contest. Meanwhile I’m just trying to live my best self!
Jesus Christ, if I knew there were all these huge cocks hanging around in my neighborhood, I would’ve gotten busy a long time ago!
I’m seriously thinking of relocating, which is just awful because I love my little street and neighborhood and so do my cats. But now the three of us (myself and my two cats) are so freaked out by the trucks and the noise and the destruction of life as we knew it, I’m considering leaving this little haven of mine.
Don’t men realize that bigger is not better? Well okay, that’s not true. What I mean to say is, bigger houses aren’t better. A huge house doesn’t make a man great or proves anything, it just annoys the fuck out of your neighbors and their cats, so put it away already!