24 March, 2009

Just One Of Them Days



Today was blogalicious.

The day started with no less than one call to the police. My wife and I woke up to some lunatic screaming profanities at someone else down in the basement apartment below us. It wasn't the shouted profanities that woke us up, it was the realization that it wasn't evening time and it wasn't actually our downstairs neighbor screaming at her kids to go to sleep. Believe it or not, that's normal for us. We've come to expect it. If we don't hear the F-word and kids crying, we start to get worried. But this morning, it was different. The voice was more gruff; louder and very angry. I half sat up, half caring, when I suddenly heard a colorful tirade and some mention of the police, capped off by the sound of shattering glass.

That was unfamiliar.

I got out of bed.

As I listened intently, not letting my weight shift enough to make the wood floor below me creak, I heard quite a nasty, one sided argument going on between a rather angry gentleman and someone else in the house. A woman? A child? Both? As I wondered, the crazed gentleman stormed out of the house and started yelling profanities as he walked up the back steps, only to storm back down and successfully shatter the glass window of their back entry door.

Time to call the cops.

I love calling the cops on people.

First of all, anyone who wakes me up at 8am deserves to get TASED, bro. Second, there are kids down there and my single-mother, downstairs neighbor just had her third child (oops.) So if you're going to eff with my sleeping patterns and put at risk the lives of a couple of kids that already have some pretty sh**** lives, you better put your arms behind your back and prepare to not drop the soap. As I looked out the front window, still online with 911, I saw my downstairs neighbor's mother's car come flying out of the driveway with a crying lady in the front seat. It didn't look like my neighbor though. Too skinny. Be she looked sad/mad/scared.

I says to the police, I says, "Looks like someone just pulled out of the driveway to leave. A woman." When they asked me to describe the car and which way it was going, I responded as any cop-show-watching, car enthusiast would:

"It's a silver, late model Ford Escape heading south bound on 200 East with a lone female driver."

They stopped her down the road and the cop(s) at my house went downstairs. I never did find out what happened (you're let down, I know.) We had to leave to take our pups to the vet to have some teeth pulled. When we backed out of our driveway to leave, there were 3 police cars parked out front. I asked longingly if they needed me to stick around and they said it was fine for me to leave. I was a little disappointed. I wanted to give a statement, appear on channel 5 and have to fight off a retaliatory attack from the crazy gentlemen downstairs. But it wasn't meant to be. We took the dogs to the vet and when I came back home. It was long since over. No blood. No standoff. No bodies. Oh well.

After that, I had to get ready for my date with Pat. Pat is a man and Pat is my friend with a 9mm Taurus pistol. We had arranged to go shoot random stuff up Spanish Fork Canyon to make ourselves feel more like the men we know we are and after a morning like I'd had, I needed to kill some inanimate objects. I shot 40 rounds of 7.62x54R ammunition through my new-to-me, Soviet issue, 1943 Mosin Nagant 91/30 bolt action rifle. It was amazing. So loud. So powerful and SOOOO very manish. We decimated a phonebook, an old laptop and anything else that got in our way. Ninty rounds between the 2 of us and our 2 guns in an hour. It was exhilerating. Yes Pat, I'll go with you on that second date.

Finally, on the way back to the real world (otherwise known as English 319, Writing Fiction) I watched a UTA public bus clip and sideswipe a parked, armored bank truck as the bus tried to round the corner. The armored truck was parked right up in his business and I could see the driver eyeing his mirror carefully as he tried to sneak past. Then the driver was like, "Eh, whatever," and as he hit the rear, steel plated bumper, I could see/hear metal and plastic breaking off the bus. But the driver didn't slow. He didn't pause. He just kept scraping by. I love seeing that kind of stuff.

After all that excitement, driving around 4 different cities this evening to find a new apartment seemed pretty tame. What's that you ask? Why yes, we are moving again. And yes, it will be our 8th move in the 3 years and 5 months we've been married. Don't ask. It's a LONG story and I don't want to tell it. I'm trying to type this up while watching Toddlers and Tiaras on TLC. Yeah, that show with pageant kids and crazy moms living vicariously through their significantly more attractive younger children. I hate this show. It's like watching those PETA videos about animal abuse on Mink farms. It's so distracting. And it's strange I'm not watching something else. I got Comcast to lower my bill from $130/mo to $90/mo while at the same time giving me 60 more channels and increasing my internet from 6Mb to 8Mb. All that and I'm watching Toddlers and Tiaras? I've got issues.

p.s. Why does blogger do the dreaded, Microsoft Office 2007-esque, double-down when I try to make a new paragraph?

7 comments:

Jeff said...

After spending most of your blog entry describing the domestic violence that just occurred at your residence, I don't think any further explanation of why you're moving again is necessary...

And yes, guns are fun. And manly. We'll probably be getting one soon... because my wife wants it. How manly is that?

Christine said...

so uh...do you live in provo? sounds like something that would happen on our neck of the woods. Our neighbor that parks next to us got their car stolen last week. so ghetto!

Lauren said...

I hate the blogger set up to. I can never get it right. Sounds like you live in a nice neighborhood :)

C-Rod said...

You are so gonna be one of those pagant parents. I can see it now, spray on tanner, lip gloss and bright blonde highlights... on you not your daughter...or son

Kim Shepherd said...

I can't believe you didn't call me! I am always up for popping a cap in old computer equipment.

(From Joey, not Kimmy)

Who's Your Paddy? said...

Logan, I am ready for our next man date. After we go shoot stuff we should go to Chuck-o-Rama and eat meat. The we can go to look at trucks and cuss as we kick the tires. All followed up with a motorcycle ride into the sunset.

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