I have a shitload of news to update on. First of all, I’m 105 pounds! Yeah, and it’s quite a coincidence that the day I hit a record low of 105 pounds, the freeloaders return to their old shit and worse. The cock and his sick pal in some goldish beige car I’ve never seen before woke me up after about five hours of sleep with the loudest, longest bass outburst since December 1997. It lasted about ten minutes and have you any idea how lucky these cocks are that I was too tired and felt like my heart was gonna explode that I couldn’t go out and beat the shit out of them?! Do they?! Once I was more awake and got my heart slowed down, I’d have gladly gone out and pummeled the shit out of them, but by then they took off. Today, though, is to be a different story. I promised myself that one more outburst and they were to get a double dose of treatment from me, and that’s exactly what they’re gonna get. Tomorrow they’ll be facing my fists as soon as he bangs in, and come Monday, out goes my final city letter. I’m not as stressed out or as furious with these sick fucks as I would be if we weren’t moving and if I didn’t know that I could write letters to the city, but still, these fuckaroos have pushed me to the max. I’m gonna show them just what happens to freeloaders that fuck with the wrong people.

I left Tom a message about their latest antics before taking Benadryl and going back to bed. He ended up crashing before I got up, and he left me a message saying that he’s sorry our inconsiderate neighbors woke me and that it’s amazing how much strength I have (that I didn’t beat the snot out of them). He said that if I had beaten her up, she’d have just had her friends come out and say that nothing was going on, and I wouldn’t stand a chance, knowing how courts are. I’m not gonna beat her ass, I’m gonna beat his ass, and yes, I do stand a chance because no man that size is gonna admit/report a woman my size kicked his ass. No judge would even believe him, even without my fine acting involved. All I’d have to worry about, if I beat his ass, would be either bunches of them coming after me or someone from over there shooting me, but I’m too mad to care. It’s more important that I do what I gotta do to get these sick fucks off my ass and not worry so much about what-ifs. These assholes are deliberately, knowingly, and intentionally harassing me. Tom’s right about me beating her, though. That would be a very stupid thing to do unless she threatened or struck at me first. If I denied beating her up, no judge would believe me, then I would be in trouble.

My initial reaction was that in my city letter, I’d push for eviction, but I’d still prefer for them to read all about just how fucked up they are, and there’s an innocent child involved here who needs a place to live, despite all its sick mom’s cronies that’d take them in if they were suddenly homeless. It’s also not easy to evict a city/state moocher. I should know. So I said the same thing in this letter as he and I did in our previous letters and that we were looking to move. I told them that I wasn’t asking for her to be evicted or lose her subsidy or that all the kids be stopped from coming to play here on weekends or that she be stopped from her slew of weekend company (I lied and stuck in “parties” even though they have indeed partied) but that all we ask is that the car stereos be eliminated. I said that asking them ourselves to can the music has gotten us nowhere and threatened (at least the nowhere part is the truth). This bitch is lucky we don’t plan to stay here indefinitely, cuz if we did, I’d do everything to get her out of here!

I told Tom I’d try not to use racial slurs and names he doesn’t like but that it’s my way of venting sometimes, within the privacy of my own home. I think I’ve done a good job of not calling him names, which is much more important than what I call these scumbags.

Anyway, I crashed around 11:00. At 4:30, during these assholes’ prime time, I woke right up to the bass. Not even the heartbeats on the sound spa saved me. I knew instantly it was next door. My heart felt like it was gonna jump right out of my chest. It was very similar to the NHA and the Vista. And these fucks didn’t come into the carport, either. They were at the end of the driveway. The white car was at the beginning of the carport. I don’t know how this 12-year-old boy could play ball, but he did. The cock sat in the passenger seat (there was someone in the backseat, too) while the driver was in the house. The cock would stick its arm out and catch the ball at times. At first, the music was insanely loud. Then it went from soft to moderate volumes till the driver got in and they quietly pulled out. I could see the cock looking at our house too, to check and maybe even hope for a reaction (yeah, you’ll get that next time, buddy!). After they left, the boy and the kid that lives there were seen for a second, then they and the white car disappeared.

I knew there’d be at least a white car and a basketball game this weekend, too. I sensed it. Especially since they’ve been quiet for a few weekends in a row. They always have to compensate me and make up for any quiet time they give me, those filthy fucks! I looked back, and since the time of the second city letter which went in around early May, these mother-fuckers have given me the bass treatment 5/30/1998, 8/15/1998, 10/25/1998, 1/23/1999, and 3/6/1999. I see the common denominator here and clearly, these MFs are testing me to see how much of their old shit I’ll take. I even thought they were moving for a minute there, due to how loud and long their scene went on, but they’re not. I’d have sensed that for sure. Just like I strongly sensed Giselle wouldn’t be here by yesterday, and I was right. I bet you anything that Easter would be a nightmare just like last year without this third city letter or my fists, but we’ll see.

I’m really at a tug of war here, cuz a part of me is like - just beat the shit out of them and get the problem permanently fixed. Get it done and over with after three years of this shit. Fight back. Take a stand for yourself or else the shit will keep coming. The other part is saying- there are only a few more months here to go, don’t risk doing anything to cause you to have to look over your shoulder for bullets, the city letter ought to be enough for a while, and this way they can do some serious reading. But what if I was wide awake and he came banging in like that? There’s no way I could restrain myself. No way! You fuck with me, I fuck with you. Period.

Later...

I fell asleep at around noon and got up at 6:00. Thanks to our friendly freeloaders, I didn’t sleep much and I kept waking up, too. So if they’re not waking me up with their music, they’re waking me up with the stress they’ve put me under. The fucking, mother-fuckers!

Naturally, Tom went through his spiel again of why violence is wrong and how it could come down to court, etc. Trust me, though. If I didn’t go to court with her last year, I sure as hell ain’t going this year! Or any other year. He agreed that the city letter was an appropriate thing to do, but he says it’s my call since I’m the one who got woke up. He feels that this is an isolated incident. It could be, but I can’t say for sure that this one was just one of those music setbacks we get every 2-3 months, because of how loud and long it was. That’s why I’m sending in the letter. I also have the feeling that if I don’t send in the letter, Easter will be a nightmare. It still may be anyway. Nonetheless, if this last letter will ensure our peace till we can get the fuck out of here, then fine. I’ll bet if we all lived here for ten years, they’d need 1-2 city letters a year sent in to keep them leashed down and controlled as far as the bass goes. And this is all bass and nothing but bass that these sick fucks listen to. There are no singers, no other instruments, just someone plucking a bass. So I’m gonna go with my gut feeling, trust what my instincts tell me, and send in this final letter. They should hear about it at the end of the week.

I should be getting my doll then too, if it hasn’t been misdelivered. These people are in Florida from what I can tell, and Tom thinks that that’s why the dolls get here late. He said if we were further east, they’d probably be more on time.

Tom and I were talking about the possibility of us getting a 1-acre lot with more considerate people around us, but I don’t know. Yes, the poorer you are, the more likely you are to be trash, and they wouldn’t have subsidized losers on 1-acre lots, but you know how I’m cursed as far as neighbors go. There’s always a problem. You could put me at the end of a row of 50 houses. Say all the houses contain nice considerate neighbors but one. Guess who that one rude, sick, selfish fuck would be next to? Me.

Anyway, all we heard/saw today from these would-be fried freeloaders if it weren’t for Tom, was her going to church at around 9:00. Bitch left in a white car wearing a jumpsuit of light/medium blues. Bitch left with a woman driver. There were 2-3 kids in the back. Bitch’s hair looks pitiful to the shoulders. Looks like she may’ve permed the lamb’s wool, too. It looked better to the middle of her back with it either down or braided. Anyway, because this was all that was seen and heard, I got the impression that the bitch was trying to make up for yesterday’s noise by being extra quiet today in the hopes that I wouldn’t rat on her to the city. Too late. Too late, bitch. If it weren’t for her being an unusually sound sleeper and her house being tightly sealed, I’d be out there waking her up now (bitch crashed at 9:00). Just the fact that she had that dog barking non-stop tells me how well she can sleep to noise. If she couldn’t, she wouldn’t have had that dog that long no matter how much she wanted to use it against me. Plus, her house has double-paned windows. Ours doesn’t.

How can this bitch go to church and consider herself religious? I thought being religious was about being caring, giving, considerate, etc. Like I said, she’s as religious as my left tit. She’s only going cuz of what she can get for free out of it.

Thank God the freeloaders don’t know we’re moving, cuz if they did, they’d probably figure, what the fuck? She’s on her way out, so what should she care if we make the end of her stay here miserable? I do! That’s who.

Tom said that the more he thought about it, the more he doubts the freeloaders will go back to their old shit when we move. He feels they’ll want to start things off on the right foot this time around. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,!!! Right foot my ass! Right isn’t in their repertoire. These people don’t know no right anything. All they know is the opposite of right and the opposite of right is usually wrong. If anything, they’ll be bummed at first to see me go, cuz then I won’t be here for a bimonthly harassment treatment from them. But once they get over me, they’ll be happy to start their shit over with a clean slate with new people. They’ll bet their odds on the new people not complaining on them too, but when they get no reaction from the new owners, and they probably won’t since most people don’t have the guts to complain, they’ll be bummed and missing me all over again, cuz then there’ll be no one to badger anymore and no challenges left.

Copy of city letter:

To whomever it may concern:

I’m writing this letter in regard to our next door neighbor. About a year ago, my husband and I sent in a letter complaining of their loud car stereo music, then another letter around last May. Since then, her loud boyfriend moved out, and her constant company’s car stereos have eased up tremendously on us, until recently. Recently, it has been a nightmare all over again as far as her boyfriend’s, relative’s, and friend’s car stereos go. Primarily during the weekends when she has a whole slew of company. It has been anything but peaceful for us. I’m not saying that I want Miss N to be evicted and lose her subsidy, or that all the kids can’t come over to play on weekends, or that she can’t have lots of company/parties on weekends, I’m just saying that we cannot tolerate the car stereo’s bass and the way it vibrates through our house so viciously. That’s all we ask, is that they eliminate the stereos. Meanwhile, we are thinking about moving, but it may take us several months before we can do so, so if there’s anything you can do to ease our anxiety and give us our peace back, it’d be very much appreciated. Talking to them ourselves has gotten us nowhere but yelled at and threatened.

Sincerely, Jodi Lin