Sunday, October 23, 2011

Still ballin' like a mother and father

We've been in our new apartment now for almost one month and I've decided it might not be as classy as I first thought. Here's how I know:

Everyone has a pit bull except us. I don't know what it is that makes people who live in ridiculously small apartments want to get huge, potentially vicious dogs but our complex is crawling with them. I think there are more pit bulls than people that live here. According to the census the pit bull to human ratio is approximately seven to one in our complex.

The other day two pit bulls belonging to two separate owners got into a fight with a homeless lady who takes naps on the apartment lawn. I wasn't sure what it was about but I think they ganged up on her to try and steal the Filet of Fish sandwich she was eating. When the dust had cleared two pit bulls with one half of a Filet of Fish each were seen hurriedly leaving the scene before anyone had a chance to call animal control and the homeless woman hasn't been seen since. Hopefully she has found more hospitable lawns to nap upon.

Then we have our next door neighbor who I have affectionately dubbed “Super Bass.” Nuclear missiles could be falling on a marching band riding Harley Davidsons outside but we wouldn't be able to hear it over the sound of his music. It rattles dishes off the shelf, knocks pictures off the wall and wakes the baby.

Underneath us lives a sweet old cat lady. She's cute because every day she gets on her bike and wobbles off to goodness knows where with two or more cats following along behind her. This was all very precious until one fateful day in the complex laundromat when I accidentally used the dryer after her and all our clothes smelled like a cat convention. Now you will see me carefully sniffing the inside of each dryer before I put any clothes in.

It's not all bad, though. We have a 24-hour doughnut place within a mile from our apartment and... OK, that's also a bad thing. I fear we're becoming regulars, and every time I go in and try to order a few doughnuts they try to talk me into getting a dozen. They always say, “It's only a few dollars more, sir. It's a much better value, sir.” And then I say, “Yeah, but are you going to wake me up tomorrow morning and make me go jogging? Are you gonna buy me some sweat pants when the rest of my pants stop fitting? Then get control of that doughnut enthusiasm, please.”

All this aside, we're very happy here. The main perk of living in our new place is that the complex basketball court is situated right behind our apartment. Whenever we're bored we go and shoot some hoops, but inevitably a bunch of teenagers come and hover around waiting for us to leave. We always invite them to join our game, but so far they never have.

I guess they think a game of “Horse” with a baby in a baby carrier strapped to an overweight white guy and his 4'10” wife is not enough of a challenge.

Anybody have strange or loud neighbors? Leave a comment if you please.