gum-chuckers

I stepped in gum yesterday. I had forgotten just how instantly pissed off you get when you step in something like gum or...

I was simply returning a book at the library. I debated whether to even turn off my car; it was maybe a fifty foot walk to the return box from where I had parked. I strode back to the car happily, mentally checking the errand of my list when my flip flop hesitated to come off the ground. I knew immediately. And I was LIVID. I looked back and sure enough there it was... a bright orange blob of sun/concrete-heated melty bubble gum. It had stuck to the bottom of my shoe and flung up clinging to the back of my ankle. Frigging gross. My thirty second errand took a turn.

I don't even remember the protocol for wiping gum off random surfaces. I just knew that whatever works best wasn't going to be found in my bag. What was in my bag? Antibacterial hand gel and Wet Ones. I spent the better part of five minutes hanging halfway out of my door - flip-flopless, sweating and mumbling my distaste for the four young boys who had breezed past me earlier chomping their gum. The phrase Little Bastards may have come up once or twice. Sure, they were going to the library instead of tormenting elderly people but they still had the disrespect to chuck their gum in between cars in a parking lot. These kids today, eh?

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a bullhorn. REALLY??

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Yup. Stephanie Tanner said it best -- and she was merely an adorable albeit annoying child. Was she wise beyond her years? Or did her writers have homes on my street? I'll never be sure because I'm too lazy to do the research.

I'm saddened yet possibly proud to say that I've started to lose touch with this generation. The days of being out all hours of the night and sleeping til eleven are long gone. Thank you, Scarlett. I'm now the one that peers out behind my curtain and shade to see/hear what is going on far too close to my driveway. I'm the lady that glances at the clock that reads 9:58 pm and finds it bewildering and maddening that parents aren't wrangling their teens and advising them to lower their voices because people on the street have small children. The one who kinda hates those teens and wishes them driver's licenses so they'll get the hell out of here. I'll take my chances on their erratic new-driver behavior - I'm used to it since their parents have shown nothing better.

Ugh. I didn't plan to be an old witch in my mid-thirties but what the frigging hell!!??? The percentage of increasingly irresponsible, inconsiderate and disrespectful youth that I've encountered over the past few years is startling. Don't get me wrong - I know a bunch of really great kids too and they can thank their parents and families for that, the proof is truly in the pudding on that one. But these bastards that live on my street are absolutely rotten. Their parents couldn't give a smaller shit. I've seen it with my own eyes. I've written this exact story before - and -as I've just re-read that post- I see it was nearly word for word at times. Funny how years later I am still feeling the same as these kids have gotten older and should've become less arrogant. Yeah no.

Sure I remember being their age. I was immature. I didn't want to listen to my parents. I wanted to be myself and do what I wanted to do. Normal teen angst. The difference was what I wanted versus what I was allowed to do. Another difference is that these kids have zero respect... because their parents don't enforce good manners or rules. They have no law. They fear no consequence. The other night a group of about eight kids stood in front of our house from 8pm - 10pm yelling, swearing, screaming into a bullhorn and playing siren sounds. Yes, you read that right. Would your parents have allowed you to yell into a bullhorn in front of your neighbors homes period? Let alone at night? My mother would have told me once to put it away and then she would've shuffled out in her slippers and smashed that thing in front of me and my friends. We respected our neighbors. We had consideration. Our parents made sure of that.

It may seem that I am just super uptight; maybe you are more lenient with situations like this. But I get angry. I shouldn't have to close my windows on a beautiful night because the end of my driveway is the place to be. They all have bedrooms, backyards and even front yards. Why walk three houses down to congregate here? I often wonder what the other neighbors are thinking. The couple with the two small girls for instance. Are they enjoying their movie night, cozied up in pajamas eating ice cream sundaes listening to young Zachy dropping F bombs into a megaphone? I can't imagine that's the case.

I wonder will it ever change? At first I most dreaded hearing the lady at the end of the cul-de-sac screaming at her children daily. Then I became more obsessed with the infuriating sounds of bass banging from the kid's car stereo in the driveway of the house next to her. Months later, and two houses down from them, the little blonde bastard became my worst nightmare with his fresh mouth and his desire to taunt my dog. Now it's your classic triple combo that drives me insane. The douchebag hat trick if you will.

This is a case of What You See Is NOT Always What You Get. These people mow their lawns, wash their cars and put wreaths on their doors. It appears to be a great little street. Sadly, good parenting has forsaken this area. I don't want to fit in by any means - if anything I want to get the hell out and find a place that is good for Scarlett. Do those places even exist anymore? If they do, my mission is to find one - next address:  Respectville, USA. Or maybe New Zealand.