It’s a Beautiful Day

Why is it a beautiful day, you ask?  Because my shit heel, inbred, redneck, fucktard neighbours moved out.  Of course, they left in the night like any good criminals, and I stood on my deck as they drove away to make sure they didn’t poison my animals, slash my tires, or sugar my gas tank, but I figured the Uhaul was some sort of a cruel joke.  However, when I woke up at the crack of 2 in the afternoon and looked out my window, reality sunk in and I did a happy dance.  If the world suddenly feels like it has more air it’s because everyone in my neighbourhood let out a huge sigh of relief.

I live in a mobile home subdivision about a mile and a half out of town.  We have dirt roads, undrinkable water, and questionable property lines.  I’ve been here for 8 years.  It’s quiet.  There are nine houses, seven of them occupied.  Everybody minds their own business.  Everybody gets along.  Nobody goes out of their way to piss off the neighbourhood.  

The rednecks, mom/dad/adult daughter/adult son-in-law/10 year old daughter, moved in sometime in May.  First, they put up an ugly privacy fence around the lot next to the neighbours across the street from me.  Then they filled that quarter acre lot with horses.  Seven horses fighting, running into the fence and drawing flies.  I stood on my deck and wondered who allowed this shit.  Our CC&Rs forbid livestock, but since no one enforces the CC&Rs I figured I was going to have to suck it up and learn to love flies and the smell of horse shit.

About a week later they moved their house in.  All of our houses sit in rows, with the short sides roughly facing east to west.  This gives a break from the wind that howls all winter.  These Arkansas douchebags planted their house facing north to south.  I sat on my deck and hoped they enjoyed getting broadsided by the wind.  Nothing like trying to fit in with the neighbourhood.  The placement of their house was another violation of the CC&Rs, but, well, you know…

Then one “morning” as I drank coffee on my deck and struggled to wake up, I noticed garden hoses running from their house, across 2 lots to the lot with the horses.  We had a bit of a drought this summer.  I looked at my back yard that never gets watered, then I looked at their lots.  Mine was brown and dead, theirs looked like Ireland.  WTF?!  Our water isn’t metered, we pay a flat rate of $35 per month, per lot, for domestic use.  This means you can have a garden, a yard, do your laundry, wash your car, and take as many showers as you want on ONE lot.  You can NOT use the water for irrigation.  You can NOT  pay $35 a month and use enough water for 4 lots, which is how many lots they own.

So the water district got involved.  The rednecks refused to pay for water on all four lots.  They burned out the well pump.  No one had water.  After the pump was replaced, they continued to use so much water that half of the subdivision didn’t have water.  The water district threatened to shut off their water.  They parked a truck over the shut off valve and chained it to a fence.  The water district called for a locate on gas and electric lines across the street from their house in order to shut them off there.  They took shovels and rakes and erased the locate lines.  This went on for two fucking months.  The water district finally got the locator and the backhoe to arrive at the same time and shut their water off.  The next morning, the rednecks dug a trench and turned their water back on.

Meanwhile, everyone in the neighbourhood signed up with an attorney to file an order to have the horses removed, and we formed a home owners association.  The rednecks answered this by petitioning the county commissioners to annex out of the subdivision.  They also filed stalking protection orders against everyone on the water district board and four of the people on the HoA.  The sheriff spent so much time out here I wondered why he didn’t move in with them.  It got to the point that if anyone drove or walked by their house, they called the sheriff.  Their house is on the same PUBLIC road as my house.  It was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. 

In September, two of my women neighbours, Theresa and Mary, approached me because they were terrified of the rednecks.  Their husbands were gone a lot, the rednecks filed stalking orders on them, and they were afraid to leave their houses.  They heard I was a little on the mean side and could I help them?  By this time I was pissed.  I HATE bullies, and that’s exactly what these assholes were.  Plus, in every rebuttal against the HoA, they cited my ducks as a precedent for their horses.  Stupid fuckers.  Ducks aren’t livestock.

My neighbours gave me the paperwork from their stalking protection orders.  It was some scary shit.  The redneck bitch included her journal entries, and it read as a “who can we sue next” manuscript.  It involved several different families, people with money, from the community.  I immediately called everyone named in the journal and told them to sever contact with these people.  I made copies of the journal and gave it to everyone concerned.  They had photos and dated written documentation of Theresa & Mary’s every move.  I didn’t know that if you spy on your neighbours and take pictures of them, they are stalking YOU.  This is what I mean by scary shit.

(I guess I should add that Theresa and her husband are quite wealthy and Mary and her husband won half a mil on a slot machine in Deadwood a year ago.)

While reading through the “sworn” testimony I found a passage stating that I told the redneck kids Theresa’s dog had tried to bite me (never happened, never said it happened).  They were using this as stalking evidence.  See if you can follow their logic.  Apparently Theresa’s dog tried to bite me, so we weren’t friends.  But in August we became friends because Theresa was turning me against them.  That’s stalking.  WTF?!  

Needless to say, I saw red.  I was furious that they were trying to drag me into their bullshit.  The next day I was outside talking to Theresa when the redneck bitches careened up the hill towards our houses.  I said something to Theresa and I remember her screaming, “SHE’LL RUN OVER YOU!” as I walked out in front of the speeding car.  The bitch stopped, I leaned in, got right up in her face, introduced myself, told her to make sure she spelled my name correctly when she filed a protection order against me, and proceeded to tear her a new asshole for naming me as a witness against my neighbours.  She never made eye contact and stammered that she didn’t have a problem with me.  You do now.  Then she told me that she didn’t have a protection order against me.  You should get one.

I turned around and Theresa was gone.  Rabbited right back to her house.  She wasn’t lying about being afraid, but of them or me I wasn’t sure. 

Of course, the bitch called the sheriff on me.  He graduated high school with my brother.  I asked if I was going to get a protection order because I felt pretty left out.  He said that yelling at someone wasn’t against the law.  Yeah, I know.  He told me the rednecks didn’t like me talking to Theresa.  I reminded him I have the right to assemble.  Uh…yes, yes you do.  I told him I also have freedom of speech.  Uh…yes, that’s true.  Then I enlightened him on all the bullshit going on with the water district and how their actions crossed the line of criminal behaviour.  Of course he knew nothing about it.  I pointed out that the protection orders and his constant presence on their behalf made him seem more than a little biased, and one would think that maybe he wasn’t the best person to service our neighbourhood.  Uh…  He was dumbfounded because he hadn’t read the paperwork he served, and I guess he thought no one was paying attention to his visits.  He obviously took the time to read it, and he took my subtle threat against his job seriously because he suddenly refered all calls to another sheriff.

So, to wrap up this very long story:  the rednecks looked like asses in court for the stalking protection orders.  Stalking is very clear cut.  Did either of these women call you?  No.  Did either of these women send you harassing letters?  No.  Did they send you texts or emails?  No.  Did they hang around your place of employment?  No.  Did they hang out around your house?  No.  Cases dismissed.  Assholes.

The rednecks looked like asses for the county commissioners when 15 people showed up to fight their petition to annex out of the subdivision.  They were not allowed to annex out, but were allowed to combine their four lots into one.  The commissioners stressed that the CC&Rs run with the land, no matter who you bought it from, no matter how many times it’s been sold.  They brought up my ducks.  There was a chorus of “ducks aren’t livestock” in the meeting room.  The commissioners explained that the essence of CC&Rs is “don’t annoy your neighbours”.  Everything is acceptable until someone complains and if the majority complains, you have a problem.  Assholes.

Lucky for them they didn’t win the petition to annex out because I was leading the crusade to have them removed from our septic system and banned from our road in the event they did.  You can’t be part of the “community” septic system if you’re not part of the community, and you can’t drive on the road the home owners pay to maintain if you aren’t part of the home owner’s association.  Let’s see how you like walking to your house and shitting in a bucket with no water to rinse it out, which brings us to…

The rednecks looked like asses when most of the neighbourhood showed up to support the water district in shutting off their water.  They adopted a “we’ll show you” attitude by filling two cisterns and running garden hoses from them to their house…until the temperature dropped to zero last week and froze their hoses.  Aww…so sad.  Currently, they owe the water district nearly $3,000 for multiple shut-offs and past due water bills.  A lien is attached to their property.  Assholes.

Honestly, in all of this I waffled on my opinion of the rednecks.  My first thought was that they moved here and set all of this in motion in order to sue Mary & her husband for damages and make off with a quick hundred thousand or so.  Once they realized Theresa and her husband had money, the rednecks added them to the plan.  But they were so d.u.m.b.  Maybe they were just stupid and misunderstood.  How can they be con artists when they have a group IQ of ‘duh’?

My opinion cemented when they called the sheriff on me two days before they fled town for sitting on my deck, drinking coffee and talking on the phone while they took down the ugly privacy fence across the street.  I saw their buddy sheriff go to their house.  I saw them in their yard pointing at me.  I saw him shake his head and drive away.  Smart man.  Telling me I can’t sit on my deck is one conversation he doesn’t want to have.

The final score?

Rednecks:  YOU LOSE.

Crossed Arrows Home Owners:  Lesson Learned.




Filthy little bastard.

Jamie is fighting a losing battle against crickets in her garage.  I’m fighting a losing battle with millers in my bedroom.  Little bastards.

At the end of my day I like to get in bed and read.  This last week I’ve been swarmed by millers.  They land on my face and when I try to shriek, “KILL THE NASTY!”  they fly in my mouth.  Then they tangle in my hair, crawl on my arms and try to pluck out my eyes.  Last night I discovered they feel moist when they do the creep walk, which sent me into screaming heebie jeebie convulsions.

Otis and Maggie used to be Miller Killers.  I would shriek, “KILL THE NASTY!” and they would leap to the head of the bed and snap them out of the air.  This summer Halo and Arlo have decided to pitch a bitch fit if anyone moves on the bed, so when I shriek, “KILL THE NASTY!” Maggie and Otis look at me like I’ve ordered their execution.  Otis still tries.  He worms (fat ass in the air, front legs by his sides, top of his head on the bed, back legs pushing) his way up me, lays on my chest and tries to catch millers, but to be frank, he sucks.  He snaps, drools, decides he wants to be a baby, and rolls onto his back while millers pummel both of us. 

Otis looking for Nasties.

This has turned my relaxing time into an hour of screaming, flailing and name calling.  When I turn the light out I fall into a terrorized exhausted sleep.  It’s helped my insomnia, but at what cost?  I’m supposed to be the boss, but I’m reduced to giving orders no one follows.  What’s next?  Will intruders be given a cup of coffee and a donut? 

You just can’t find good help these days.

Good Morning Starshine

This is how I woke up this morning.

Dog feet hovering over my face.

I guess it could have been worse, it could have been dog ass in my face.

Yeah, like that’s never happened.

Halo is part hound dog so she sleeps flat on her back with her feet in the air.


She usually sleeps down by my knees so it isn’t an issue, but when she creeps up by my waist I have huge, nasty dog feet in my face.


Sleeping with 5 dogs is a delicate balance.  Everyone has their place:  Sienna & Otis at the foot of the bed, Maggie on one side, Halo on the other and Arlo by my head.  Arlo tends to use my face as a pillow and that’s almost as annoying as dog feet in my face, but not quite.  Most of them sleep on the floor in the summer, and I don’t know what to do with all the room in my bed.  It’s a little slice of heaven.  But in the winter when it’s freezing outside and I’m between two bitches with head and foot warmers, it’s a slice of heaven too.  With all that warmth and love I guess I can’t complain about the occasional feet in my face.

I had to look carefully to make sure my kids didn’t take the picture on the right..



I Made a Huge Mistake

I went to Walmart during the day yesterday.  It has been years since I was in Walmart during the daylight hours.  I nearly lost my mind before I got out of the store.  Kids screaming, people blocking the aisles while talking on their cell phones, people in the REST ROOM talking on their phones while doing their business, people standing in the way looking as if they had just returned from an alien abduction.  It was the worst kind of insanity.  I’m going to have to change my shopping hours back to the dead of night when no one other than the creepy checkers and stockers are around.

One of the drawbacks of working at the Outlaw is I work with MDR.  I go to work and when I get in my van at the end of the night, I forget about it.  If something annoying happens, I share it here.  When I get home at night, I want to watch TV and crochet and sort of melt away.

He wants to come home and drunkenly bitch about work.  Over and over and over. 

Someone irritated him last night and he came home just as I was trying to finish my last episode of Supernatural before bed and proceeded to tell me the same ridiculous story 4 times, or 15 minutes worth of drunken rambling.

I am not a fan of drunks.  The only way this arrangement works out is because we seldom see each other.  Until now.

I less than politely told him I didn’t want to be a part of the Cowboy drama (the Cowboy is the attached bar and it’s worse than any middle school.  Everyone who works on that side is a drunk with a vag) and quite honestly, I didn’t give a shit about his stupid story.  He got all sorts of pissed off and I thought he was going to cry. 

When he gets like this, all ranting and raving about other people, it pisses off my dogs and he usually gets snapped by Otis and/or Arlo.  One would think he would learn, but he never does.  Afterwards, he forgets about it, but the two stock dogs don’t and I have to spend the next 3 days convincing them they don’t need to heel him every time he walks by.  Again, one would think he would figure this out after a year of living here.

In the end, he shut up and pouted, I watched the rest of Supernatural and went to bed.  All’s well that ends well, I guess.

I’m So Tired

I’ve been away so long WordPress changed the format on my home page, and I don’t think I like it.  I guess I’ll get over it, but I can’t help but feel it’s their little way of punishing me for being a negligent blogger.

Today I made a doggie dooley (I’m sure that name is trademarked or something so here’s a link to keep from getting sued.  Or something.)  I hope it works because the piles of dog shit really add up fast.  I’ve considered bagging it and selling it to people with enemies, but I might get it all back in flaming little bags.  I’m also hoping my dogs are smart enough to stay out of if ‘cuz Lord knows they weren’t smart enough to use the pet door I installed.  It took them several days to get the hang of it and that was more than a little disappointing.

I also hauled 8 five gallon buckets of pea gravel from my van to my back yard.  Why was the gravel in 5 gallon buckets?  Uh…the highway department has two big piles of gravel in town that they “forgot” about.  One of the highway department guys said I could have some.  Define “some”.  The area by my back steps turns into the biggest, slickest mud pit every time it rains/snows/thaws/melts, and more often than I care to think about I end up on my knees/ass/elbows in the mud.  I’m hoping to get enough gravel to make a nice walkway before I get caught and have to go to jail.

Michele’s still here and we’re still having fun.  She won the boot that was sponsored by the Spaghetti Western (by artist Berna Ost).  I admired that boot all summer and never bought a ticket.  Ah…such is life.

I have some stories to tell and some catching up to do, but there’s work to be done around my house and I need to concentrate on that while I still have help.

Perversity of Nature

As most of you know, I have 4 dogs and a spare.  They are all borderline crazy.  I can dress them up, but I can’t take them out.  They have a large yard to play in, and keeping them contained so they can’t take their brand of crazy out into the neighbourhood is a full time job.  Behind the yard is a large field…5 acres, 20 acres, I don’t know, but it’s large.  This year, the guy who lives on the other side of the hill strung up an electric fence and put 3 horses in to graze for the summer.

This is normal horse behaviour.

I don’t know a lot about horses, but they are herd animals because they are prey.  Safety in numbers and all that.  I also know they tend to avoid noise, strange things and crazy assed dogs.  Two of the horses stay out in the field, but every freaking time I let the dogs out, one of the horses runs across the field and stands right beside my fence while my dogs act as if the creature from the black lagoon just materialized. 

Seriously.  It’s a horse.  You saw him yesterday.  And the day before.  And the day before that.  Get over it.

The horse must be completely retarded, and I hope he’s been gelded because he doesn’t need to add anything to the gene pool.  He calmly stands at the fence while my pack of hell hounds bark, slobber, snap, growl and attempt to jump over the fence so they can turn him into un-canned dog food.  It’s ridiculous.  Between the freaky neighbours on the hill who yell at each other day and night and this idiotic horse who insists on standing 3 feet away from a spectacularly horrible death, I can’t even hang a load of laundry outside in peace.  Most days I feel like jabbing an ice pick in each of my ears just so I won’t have to hear the racket.


On another note, I bought a stationary bike and I plan to ride it cross country to meet up with The Idiot on his way back from Canada.  Maybe we can have lunch.  Currently, he’s on vacation, so I might be able to get across the dry, dusty sage brush flats (otherwise known as Wyoming) while he’s resting up from his amazing journey to raise money for the flood victims in Minot, ND.

Idiot Dogs

My idiot dogs pulled my internet cable from the wall, so I’m internet free until I can get a service call out here in the sticks. This will give me time to sweep up dog hair, mend the fence they’ve torn down, mop the mud covered floors…it’s like I’m running a freaking doggie daycare.

Hope all is well.

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