Crack whore no more...

Well, that's not quite accurate. I'm sure she's still a crack whore. She's just no longer our neighbour.

It has now been one year since the police first raided the house next door, which makes it nearly one year since they had any money to pay their mortgage and other bills. The house was foreclosed last fall (thank God) and our neighbourhood is now free of dumbass dealers and skanks.

To my knowledge, Dumb-as-dirt is still in jail where is sorry ass belongs. No doubt he's updating his Facebook status on a regular basis and keepin' it real, yo.

So, now that the nightmare has left the 'hood, I thought I'd leave a few words of advice for any kids out there aiming low in life and dreaming of becoming a drug dealer:

1. Don't set up shop in a quiet family neighbourhood. As with most illegal activity, you want to be inconspicuous. Having 50 cars whip in and out of your driveway every night is bound to be noticed by your neighbours.

2. Similar to #1, if you're going to party 24/7, don't live in a quiet family neighbourhood. And don't live in a townhouse with thin walls. Angry neighbours are generally the ones who call the cops, loser. Which brings us to...

3. Don't piss off your neighbours. You want to bring as little attention to yourself as possible. Try to blend in. Be decent. Don't come home at 3am and beep your freakin' car alarm. And yelling and swearing is not a way to befriend most neighbours.

4. Similar to #3, don't let your customers park in your neighbours' driveways. Guaranteed this will piss people off.

5. Don't call the cops to your house if you are illegally dealing drugs in your house. Seriously, Dumb-as-dirt did this. I swear I'm not making it up. A neighbour went over to tell him to stop dealing drugs and the idiot called the police! While he was dealing drugs in his kitchen and had a house full of stoned people!

6. Don't dress like Vanilla Ice unless you want to be treated like Vanilla Ice. Dumbass white guys dressed in hip hop gear screams "I'm a loser" and "I'm a user." And you look stupid in those clothes anyway. You ain't from the 'hood so don't even try to fake it, yo.

7. If the police take you down in the middle of the street, don't yell out the names of the people you're willing to rat out. If the police can hear those names, chances are everyone else on the street can hear them too. And all those neighbours now know you're not only a drug dealer, but you're ALSO a coward who'd snitch on anyone to save his ass. Oh, and crying while face down in the middle of the road doesn't really help the 'tough hip hop guy' image. Just sayin'.

8. Don't make pornos in your house. Again, this falls under "don't piss off your neighbours." No one wants to hear people having loud sex from your scummy house. This is yet another reason your ass is in jail, doofus.

9. After the first drug bust - move. This is a sign the police are on to you.

10. If you can't move right away, at least break up your routine. Don't keep buying drugs from the same supplier on the same day from the same place. Again, if they caught you once, they're likely to notice you're still at it. It's not really that hard to understand.

11. After the second drug bust - move.

12. After you get out of jail for the second bust, don't immediately hold a loud drug-filled party in the very house where you were previously busted (twice). Seems like obvious advice, but apparently it's not.

13. After your (ex)boyfriend lands in jail the 3rd time, it's probably best not to move in and keep dealing drugs with your new boyfriend, who also happens to be a convicted dealer. Please see previous notes about pissing off neighbours, being inconspicuous, police being on to you, etc.

14. Pay your electric bill. After all, once the police take away all your drugs, you'll want to have a cold beer on hand.

15. This piece of advice is for the parents in the neighbourhood, so please pay attention is this one is particularly important: DON'T LET YOUR CHILDREN TRICK OR TREAT AT THE DRUG DEALER'S HOUSE!!! Good Lord some people are stupid.

It was a horrible experience. Goodbye losers.

And to the new neighbour, I hope they sell giant vats of disinfectant at Costco 'cause you're gonna need it.

Oh, to be a sad unemployed drug dealer...

Skank #1 stopped by today to move out more stuff. I don't know what's left in there, but she's been moving stuff out for two and a half months! Today she took the vacuum cleaner, which was likely so little used that she had to move everything else out before she could find it.

While she was here she was complaining to Skank #2 that she was bored. She'd "looked everything up on the Internet," which is pretty freakin' impressive if you think about it. She then said she hates Facebook, and TV is boring. She said she finally got to do what she wanted and watch TV all day, but then found out it was totally boring. Wow Skank #1! Those are some pretty lofty goals you set for yourself. Watching TV all day? Now there's something to strive for! Hey, I've got an idea, how about getting a freakin' job! I know you're a low-life and all, but that's what adults do, they get jobs and support themselves. I know that being out on bail must be exciting for you, but seriously, you should give meaningful employment a shot.

OMG!!!! Chicken legs!!!!

The crack whore next door is sunbathing on the patio in a skimpy string bikini. Ewwwwwwww! She has the skinniest most chicken-like legs I've ever seen on a human being. Icky. Also, I should point out that it's actually cloudy out, not sunny. That might impair the attempts to deepen the tan.

Perhaps I'm being too quick to judge. Maybe the bathing suit is her last clean item of clothing. Without electricity they can't do laundry, so maybe she just happens to be sitting outside wearing the last of her clean clothes. When I was little I had a friend who used to wear her bathing suit bottoms when she ran out of clean underwear. Maybe this is the same thing.

Oh, wait! There's a little bit of sun sneaking out! Soak it up crack whore! Fry the other parts of your body.

All I know is that when her mugshot boyfriend gets home, I'm heading far, far away from the basement (where they live). I don't want to witness any action that skanky bikini provokes.

OMG, she's lit something on fire!

OK, so the crack whore next door and her mugshot boyfriend have been living without power for almost a month now. And yes, since I've been down wind a few times, I can tell you that yes, it does reek. It used to smell like a thousand cigarette butts and a lot of pot, but now there's rotten food, sweat and musty stink added in. It's a nice mixture. If Amy Winehouse were to market a perfume that smelled like her house, I imagine the scent would be similar.

But I digress, they've been living without electricity and that means no fans or air conditioning. So last week, when it was 30 degrees Celsius, they abandoned the house (and their cats) to stay somewhere cooler. Either they wore out their welcome elsewhere or 26 degrees Celsius is cool enough for them, because now they've moved back in. While eating my dinner tonight I suddenly smelled something burning. Like a really, really strong smell of something burning. And since I used the BBQ, I knew it wasn't my stove. So I ran through the whole house to try to find the cause of the smell, only to realize it was coming from next door. She'd clearly set something alight. Her back door was propped open to let the smoke and smell out.

So now I'll go to bed every night knowing they're using candles and fire to stay alive next door, and what could be more comforting than 2 junkies using fire in the townhouse attached to mine?

A light, through the lack of lights, at the end of the tunnel?

Since I last wrote, Skank #2 had an all night party. It was like having a rave at my house... except I'd never, ever have a rave at my house.

Skank #2 has a new boyfriend. And, gasp, he's also a convicted drug dealer. She certainly has a type.

Skank #1 has found herself a little red wagon that she uses to take things from the house to her truck. Although I appreciate the irony of using an innocent child's toy to remove things from a crack house, it is a little pathetic, but also exciting. The more stuff that's gone means we're one step closer to never seeing (or hearing) Skank #1 again.

The most important and BEST development? They don't have power! Their electricity has been cut off. I normally wouldn't be happy about someone losing their electricity, but in this case, it means they're defaulting on payments, which means we're one step closer to saying goodbye to the Crack Whore Next Door.

I got excited after the first drug bust, but then Dumb-as-Dirt got out 3 days later. Then, 5 weeks later, I got excited again when Dumb-as-Dirt was arrested again. Silly me. After he got out and was busted again 9 days later, I got excited again, only to find the Crack Whore living next door. So I'm trying to remain rational and calm about this. But it really does finally seem like the end of the nightmare is nigh.

My weekend highlight...

Sunday - approximately 5:30 pm: Skank #2 emerges on her patio in her pyjamas, which include very saggy, baggy zebra print pants. Nice.

Now the mice are high too...

Oh, Crack Whore, Crack Whore, Crack Whore... the problems you cause. So, because the front door is unusable next door, and because it's such a long, exhausting walk from the back of the house to the front (maybe 50 steps tops), Skank #2 has decided to pile her garbage in the back. No, we don't live in Toronto, so our garbage is picked up on a weekly basis. The catch? They pick up the garbage on the street at the FRONT of our houses. And while the rest of us can manage the trip to the end of the driveway, lazy-ass Skank #2 has decided the walk is too far. So there are now a couple week's worth of garbage on her patio. And now there are either big mice or small rats coming from her garbage. And because I have the good fortune of living next door, the big mice/small rats run across my patio too. It scared the crap out of me this afternoon. I thought I'd enjoy an hour on my lovely Sunday to sit on my lounge and read a book. I didn't realize my lounge was in the middle of the rat highway.

She is a charmer, isn't she? And there are open, gnawed on bags of garbage right outside her door. How disgusting is that?

On a more positive note, Skank #2 has been more quiet this week. I suspect this has something to do with the police stopping in front of the house every single day. Thursday I spotted them as I was washing dishes at 10pm. On Friday night, it was closer to 11 that they passed by, just as I was heading upstairs. Note, she wasn't home either time. And last night they were a bit more tricky. At 3:30am I awoke to the sound of a car running for at least 15 mins. When I checked, it was a squad car parked on the little dead end street behind our houses, across from the creek. Sneaky. You might think the constant police presence would make me feel safer, but on the contrary, it makes me more nervous. It reminds me of the crooks and crack heads living next door. And if the police are that interested, the Crack Whore must be up to no good.