The pickup is still parked in front of the house.
Unmoved.
Unticketed.
Unbelievable.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Tenacity
After Beavis' last outburst, he's been true to his word about still not moving his truck.
Y'know, this whole thing wouldn't be worth escalating if he didn't think the neighborhood was his personal junkyard. We don't park our vehicles in front of the neighbors' houses if at all possible...and we especially don't leave vehicles for MONTHS at a time in front of anyone else's house. Rude, obnoxious, spoiled behavior. Oh, and illegal, too.
His momma should've spanked him more as a child.
Y'know, this whole thing wouldn't be worth escalating if he didn't think the neighborhood was his personal junkyard. We don't park our vehicles in front of the neighbors' houses if at all possible...and we especially don't leave vehicles for MONTHS at a time in front of anyone else's house. Rude, obnoxious, spoiled behavior. Oh, and illegal, too.
His momma should've spanked him more as a child.
Monday, December 10, 2007
A Long Winter...
For the past five weeks or so, Beavis has laid claim to the street in front of our house with his dubiously-running former work pickup that leaves oil stains all over the place:
So the husband would resort to parking in front of Beavis' mommy and daddy's house whenever we didn't feel like stacking up our cars in the driveway. That annoyed Beavis, strangely enough. Apparently "what's good for the goose is good for the brain-dead pathetic gander who's so lame he has to live with his parents" isn't said in Beavis' household.
One night we came home to this. One of Beavis' dumb@$$ friends parked behind the husband's car to make it look like he bumped bumpers:
Upon closer inspection, we see that he's not:
So riding the line of legality is how it's gonna go? Fine by me.
He's still with the same BabyMama, but apparently things aren't going smoothly. There's a lot of in-the-middle-of-the-street verbal arguments, with a lot of her yelling, "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!" as he stomps around, gets into his friend's car, and roars off into the night.
Kinda interesting, but it'd be better if he moved his damn truck.
We did a little research, and made a few phone calls last week.
Yesterday we had the chance to move my car in front of Beavis' mommy and daddy's house. In fact, Beavis saw us leave in the husband's car as he was leaving in his white peesacrap truck, and purposely drove around the block to see if I moved my car into his space. I didn't. It took willpower I didn't think I had, but I left sleeping scumbag dogs lie for the moment.
This morning was bright and sunny. The usual parking scene unfolded before me:
I put on my skates and went for a beach skate. As I strode by, I saw this:
Chalk marks on the front tire of Beavis' truck.
Hmmmm...
On the way back from my lovely beach skate I see this:
Chalk marks on the rear tire of Beavis' unmoved truck.
Not only that, but there's a lovely new accessory on Beavis' windshield:
Yep, a ticket!
Beavis usually stops by the ol' truck once every 7-10 days to start 'er up just for snicks and giggles...I can't wait to hear the cussing when he sees the ticket!
Edit: he found the ticket. He's not happy. He started the work truck up, then let it die. I stepped out onto the porch and had a seat to watch the show. His babymama walked around aimlessly. He stomped back and forth betwixt the work truck and peesachit truck cussing wildly. He sees me and growls, I'm gonna leave that truck there all month!
It's your wallet! I point out.
That lets loose a volley of cussing that I usually hear directed towards the babymama, who had fluttered back to Loser Homebase by this time. Real grownup! I reply. WHAT?!?!?! he yells. You heard me. I reply. More cussing ensues, and then he slams the peesachit truck door shut and sloooooowwwwwly drives off down the street. The husband is going to file a complaint with the cops, just to leave a paper trail.
So the husband would resort to parking in front of Beavis' mommy and daddy's house whenever we didn't feel like stacking up our cars in the driveway. That annoyed Beavis, strangely enough. Apparently "what's good for the goose is good for the brain-dead pathetic gander who's so lame he has to live with his parents" isn't said in Beavis' household.
One night we came home to this. One of Beavis' dumb@$$ friends parked behind the husband's car to make it look like he bumped bumpers:
Upon closer inspection, we see that he's not:
So riding the line of legality is how it's gonna go? Fine by me.
He's still with the same BabyMama, but apparently things aren't going smoothly. There's a lot of in-the-middle-of-the-street verbal arguments, with a lot of her yelling, "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!" as he stomps around, gets into his friend's car, and roars off into the night.
Kinda interesting, but it'd be better if he moved his damn truck.
We did a little research, and made a few phone calls last week.
Yesterday we had the chance to move my car in front of Beavis' mommy and daddy's house. In fact, Beavis saw us leave in the husband's car as he was leaving in his white peesacrap truck, and purposely drove around the block to see if I moved my car into his space. I didn't. It took willpower I didn't think I had, but I left sleeping scumbag dogs lie for the moment.
This morning was bright and sunny. The usual parking scene unfolded before me:
I put on my skates and went for a beach skate. As I strode by, I saw this:
Chalk marks on the front tire of Beavis' truck.
Hmmmm...
On the way back from my lovely beach skate I see this:
Chalk marks on the rear tire of Beavis' unmoved truck.
Not only that, but there's a lovely new accessory on Beavis' windshield:
Yep, a ticket!
Beavis usually stops by the ol' truck once every 7-10 days to start 'er up just for snicks and giggles...I can't wait to hear the cussing when he sees the ticket!
Edit: he found the ticket. He's not happy. He started the work truck up, then let it die. I stepped out onto the porch and had a seat to watch the show. His babymama walked around aimlessly. He stomped back and forth betwixt the work truck and peesachit truck cussing wildly. He sees me and growls, I'm gonna leave that truck there all month!
It's your wallet! I point out.
That lets loose a volley of cussing that I usually hear directed towards the babymama, who had fluttered back to Loser Homebase by this time. Real grownup! I reply. WHAT?!?!?! he yells. You heard me. I reply. More cussing ensues, and then he slams the peesachit truck door shut and sloooooowwwwwly drives off down the street. The husband is going to file a complaint with the cops, just to leave a paper trail.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
