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.

The Crack Whore's Door...

It was a bit awkward trying to inconspicuously take a picture of my neighbour's front door. I basically had one shot, and this is what I got with one click.

You can see where they rammed the door down (twice in three months.) And on the left-hand side, you can see the wood they've jammed between the door and the frame to hold the door up. Nice work.

Incidentally, on a somewhat related note, on my way home tonight I watched a mother duck leading her cute little chicks across the road. And then I watched as someone ran them over. That's the kinda day it's been. I really wish this were over.

The gloves are off!!

It's one thing to mess with me. But mess with my cat and you're done for skank!

Yesterday, I was sitting on my fenced in patio, enjoying a lovely sunny Sunday. My cat, Alice, was relaxing with me while on a leash.

And then... Crack Whore's cat jumped on the fence. The cat, which is fittingly all black as though it emerged directly from hell, is allowed to roam free. She spends her days tormenting all the other pets in the neighbourhood, most of whom are on leashes. My cat was quite welcoming and friendly of Hell Cat. Hell Cat, on the other hand, starting hissing and spitting as though we'd invited her over and forgot to serve the caviar. Poor Alice had a fit and scared Hell Cat away.

It took several minutes to calm Alice down, but once again we were able to relax and enjoy our patio. Then Skank #2 came outside, while on the telephone, exercising her vast vocabulary: "you're f_ckin' kidding. No f-ckin' way!. Holy f-ck! I hope he f-ckin' cabbed it home. He coulda f-ckin' met me there." You get the idea. She's the type of person for whom the f-word is noun, verb, adverb, adjective and I'm sure she's even used it as a pronoun. After gracing us with her presence, she went back inside. And that's when her f-ckin' cat came back.

Hell Cat came and sat on the outside of my gate, right where Alice could see her but not reach her, little bugger. Alice bolted toward, and bolted so hard that she bent the metal clasp on her leash and broke free. Alice is in an indoor cat who's never been outside off leash. I FREAKED! I ran after Alice and thankfully was able to catch her. She'd chased Hell Cat clear across the park and across the creek. In short, Alice kicked Hell Cat's ass. I got to Alice just as she realized she didn't know where she was and was about to panic. F-ckin' Hell Cat.

That Crack Whore is goin' down. No one messes with my cats and gets away with it.

Hope?

Seems you can control skanks in certain parts of the world: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/wear/8021185.stm.

Ah... Saturday morning...

A time to sleep in and relax in bed, listening to the sound of the soft breeze outside, the trickle of the water in the creek, and the police pounding on the crack whore's back door.

Yes, for the second day in a row, the police have come to find Skank #2. For the second day in a row, they were unsuccessful. At least they came a little later today - about 8:15am - a respectable hour for the weekend. Maybe I'll stop setting my alarm clock and let them wake me up every morning with their door pounding.

Interestingly, Skank #1 came a callin' at about 1pm, just as I was heading out. I'm not sure why she'd stop by someone else's house and let herself in when no one was home. It's all very curious. Perhaps she just needed a place for self-pleasure. I don't know. I wasn't here to listen. Perhaps she sold her boyfriend's sound system and bought a Jackrabbit with the money.

At this moment, the back gate is open, which means Skank #1 left it open when she left or that someone else has since entered the house. It's so hard to keep track. All I know is that Skank "1's classy pickup is gone, which means she's left the building (perhaps a little warmer and pinker than when she arrived.)

I am waiting on pins and needles, OK, I'm not, but we'll see if the cops show up again tomorrow morning.

And the police came a' callin'...

At 7:10 am Friday morning, as I was reading the paper, I was distracted by a loud banging noise at the front of the house. I soon realized that someone was pounding on the front door next door. And I knew that it had to be someone from outside the neighbourhood because we all know the front door is inoperable (smashed down by the police one too many times.) I also wondered if it wasn't obvious that the front door was inoperable. It has a huge dent in the middle of the door, and it's basically held up by to pieces of wood wedged between the door and the door frame. It's quite attractive.

When I finished my breakfast and took my cereal bowl to the kitchen I saw the police cruiser out front. That's who was pounding the door (I should point out that this officer helped smash down the door.) Mr. Police Officer then moved to the back door and started pounding on it. While I cleaned up my dishes, put the paper in the recycle bin, made my lunch and went upstairs and brushed my teeth, Mr. Police Officer continued to pound on the door. Two points for persistence. And just as I was about to go in the shower, someone finally answered the door. But it wasn't the crack whore next door. It was some guy with a really deep voice. I heard the officer ask for Skank #2 (though he used her real name, of course). And then I heard the guy say, "oh, yeah, there was a problem with her bus, and then she lost track of time..." In short, Skank #2 wasn't home.

Something I've learned living next to the crack whore next door is that the police generally only call early in the morning to make sure the people inside are home. Skank #2 must have bail conditions that require her to be at home from 9pm to 9am, just like Dumb-as-dirt and Skank #1. And poor Snank #2 wasn't home. Doh! And when I got out of the shower, the guy who answered the door in her absence was having his record checked.

I should note that a couple (guy/girl couple) seem to have moved into the house earlier in the week. I've heard them fighting when the Skanks weren't home. Now, if you knew the police had raided a home 3 times in the past 6 months, would you really think "Hey! That's a great place to live! Let's move in!" And even if you didn't know about the police raids, surely the appearance and inability to use the front door would arouse some suspicions. Just sayin'.

When I got home at 6:30pm I noticed a few boxes of stuff on the patio. Someone moving in? Someone moving out? Who knows. I was only home for a few minutes before leaving again, and when I returned home later in the evening all the boxes were gone and the house was quiet.

Where oh where is Skank #2?

I wish I'd thought of that...

In desperation, I wrote to my local member of provincial parliament, asking for help in getting rid of the drug dealers, addicts and skanks next door. I explained that for the past 9 months I've lived beside these filthy people who party for days at a time because, shock, they're drug addicts. I even mentioned the sounds of sex. If he's going to understand how truly uncomfortable my house is, he has to know about the sex. Did I mention I'd rather listen to the Marineland theme song on an endless loop while chewing tinfoil than hear other people have sex? Just checkin'.

Anyway, bless the politician for reading my letter while he's apparently out of the country. It had to be at least two letter-sized pages long and he read it on his Blackberry. And at the point where his thumb was about to cramp up, here's the reply he sent:

"My best advice is that you continue to work with the police and continue to report every incident in need of investigation. It is there job to protect your rights and to enforce the laws of Canada."

Doesn't make me terribly confident. Did I also mention I'm a stickler for spelling?

Correction...

In my entry for July 5, 2009 I neglected to mention a fourth option (see bottom of July 5 entry). Thank you to one of my colleagues for kindly pointing out the error.

Option 4: self pleasure... in someone else's house... ewwww....

OK. My vomit reflex has once again kicked in, so I'm gonna run.

Stick around the next update, which will include audio! But no porn.

The history later, first the update...

June 8, 2009: My drug dealing neighbour gets out on bail after 5 weeks in jail for possession of ecstasy. He was first arrested in a major drug raid in March. Got out on bail 3 days later. Five weeks later he was caught again with a lesser amount of ecstasy, did the jail time, is out free again June 8, 2009. For the second time in 3 months I am subjected to a) an absolute loser, lowlife, noisy, dumb-as-dirt neighbour, and b) the sounds of dumb-as-dirt having "I just got out on bail again" sex.

June 10, 2009: Home from work, sick in bed with the worst stomach virus of my life, I am once again subjected to the sound of dumb-as-dirt having sex at approximately 3pm. At approximately 3:15pm I watch his girlfriend arrives home. That's right, she is stupid enough to stand by her man, and he cheats on her 2 days after getting out on bail WHILE STILL LIVING WITH HER. Turns out, his ex-girlfriend has moved in with them. Skank #1 (current girlfriend) is apparently a little too trusting of Skank #2 (ex-girlfriend). **It's worth noting that it's him I'm hearing having sex, in addition to the Skanks. The sound is burned on my brain forever, like battery acid on flesh, and it's directly tied to my vomit reflex.

June 17, 2009: Drug squad raids dumb-as-dirt's house again, smashing in front door a la TV movie. And, because he's dumb-as-dirt, he's once again caught with drugs and once again hauled off to jail, as is Skank #1. It's her second time being arrested. Skank #2 is charged but left to live in the house (yeah me!)

June 18, 2009: Skank #1's parents arrive to pack up her stuff.

June 19, 2009: Skank #1 is out on bail. Over the next two weeks she starts moving out her stuff, and his. Hurrah! Could this be the end of the dumb-as-dirt neighbour?

July 1, 2009: Notice that Skank #1 and Skank #2 are hanging out a lot. Skank #1 has moved out, but is still visiting the house every day. She must have a bail curfew because she always leaves in the early evening.

July 5, 2009: Skank #1 visiting again. Only other person known to be in house is Skank #2. Visitors are easy to track. The front door is not useable because the police have smashed it in one too many times. So everyone has to enter using the back gate. I spent my whole day outside and only one person entered the house - Skank #1. Late afternoon, while having a BBQ, I (good god) hear Skank #1 having sex. This means one of three things: 1. dumb-as-dirt is out on bail again, which is unlikely as he was supposed to be in jail for a year or more and wasn't seen entering the house. 2. Skank #1 is cheating on her boyfriend in what is now Skank #2's house. 3. Skank #1 and Skank #2 are now a couple.