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Hey, have I mentioned my sucky ass neighbors recently? You know the ones -- they think they're all punk rock.

I made one of them cry last night.

OK, it was actually this morning. 4am, to be precise.

Since faux punk girl was forced out of the house by her parents last month it has just been faux punk boy and the brother of faux punk boy. I imagined [up until last night] that the two of them sit around the house and just dream up ways to drive people in the neighborhood systematically insane. Sleep-deprivation makes people into lunatics, you know.

I'm living proof of that. Last night at 1am they turned up their stereo as loud as it would go. We had the windows closed and a fan on, but it was still as if the stereo was in the room with us. I laid in bed until 4am and I thought evil thoughts. I wished a meteor would crash into their house and kill them. I fervently hoped the meth lab that is likely set up in their livingroom would blow up. I desired to see a mob of neighborhood kids shove bamboo sticks under their faux punk fingernails while cutting them and pouring salt in the cuts. Fire ants? Bring them on!

What happened next is a blur.

I leapt out of bed in a single bound, marched downstairs, threw on my sneakers, and pounded on their door. I want you to imagine me. This is me this morning. I look pretty normal, if not kind of tired. Last night I was wearing blue plaid flannel pajamas, a pair of running sneakers, and my leather coat. My hair was standing straight up from tossing and turning in bed all night. I was wearing my glasses. I'm a little girl -- 5'2" and fairly petite. And I was ragingly pissed off.

So my faux punk neighbor answers the door. I start off very nice. I introduce myself: "Hello, my name is Nicole. I'm your neighbor from across the street." I shook his hand.

It's then that I completely lost my mind. I started screaming at him:

"You must turn down your music, you stupid motherfucker! I have not slept in at least a month because you fucktards [thank you BeerMary] can't figure out that all of us in the neighborhood have a different sleep schedule than you! Pull your fucking head out of your fucking ass and look around! Everyone in this motherfucking neighborhood wants to fucking stab you and your friends in the guts and use your intestines as fucking Christmas tree garland! While I understand that you just moved out of mommy and daddy's house for the very first time, have some fucking respect, you whitebred, disrespectful, limp dick motherfucker!"

The reason I know I said this is because Craig videotaped the whole thing. He made me watch it this morning. I'm a scary girl.

And faux punk boy thought so too. As soon as I paused to take a breath he started to cry like a little girl. Then he started to apologize. I realized that while I was yelling at him I had been jumping up and down like a fucking lunatic. So I dialed it back a bit, accepted his apology, asked him to please keep the music down, and returned to my house.

Is there such a thing as sleep-deprivation rage? I think I might need help. At least there were no pumpkin carving tools around -- things could have gotten ugly.

Hell hath no fury like a girl denied her sleep. Heh.

Posted by Nicole at October 16, 2002 08:09 AM | TrackBack