(tell me that isn’t original, Avi.)

Ahhh, the saga of the Future Darwin Award Winners continues. AKA, the Cul-de-Sac Clique has a problem.

Yep, the Stepford like clique that resides in the cul-de-sac seems to have a deformity. The house in the center of the cul-de-sac (I hope I don’t have to write that AGAIN in this post) is occupied by people who:

A. Have very little to no control over their teenagers

B. Are incredibly immature

C. Are never home on the weekends and leave afore mentioned teenagers home alone

Take your pick the end result is all the same. At least twice a month they throw a raging party. Now, if they kept the party INSIDE their house or at the very least IN the backyard ONLY, I would NOT be writing this now. Unfortunately, they party in the front yard, around the cul-de-sac (dammit) up and down our street, yadda, yadda, yadda. The next morning beer cans are littering the gutters and yards (yes, other people’s YARDS). It’s ridiculous!

Last weekend we came home from dinner and the street was lined with cars, the cul-de-sac (sonofabitch) was practically filled with cars, and there were teenagers everywhere. I hate teenagers. Hate.

We had to wait for one of them to drive off from where they were BLOCKING our drive way. Then as we started to pull into our driveway another set of them in a car drove right up on our ass (practically UP our freaking tail pipe).

I went in and called the police. Oddly enough, within 10 minutes of calling all of the cars (there were at least 50 of them, no exaggeration) were gone in a freakish sort of mass exodus. Mike is convinced they have a police scanner. The typical mess was left behind when the police arrived so at least there was proof that something had gone on.

I park my car IN MY DRIVEWAY, I DECORATE for holidays… therefore I like to avoid vandalism and acts of retaliation by disgruntled neighbor hoodlum people. So like ANY normal person, I called the cops and went up to Ethan’s bedroom to snoop through the blinds. DUH!!!

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who had called the cops because when the cops showed up to “investigate” the Future Darwin Award Nominees ran out to GREET them. They apparently even invited them in for coffee or something all “It’s 1957 and Daddy Knows Best is on!!!”

That’s right… let the partying neighbors with hoodlum looking teenagers skulking around at all hours SEE which NEIGHBOR it was who squealed like a stool pidgeon with a hot poker up its’ ass.

Fine by me… because they’ll never suspect the quiet family who blares really loud rock music out of their garage until VERY late on the weekends, will they?