Why it's hard to be annoyed with the Booyah! neighbors

You may have read here about my neighbor sitch in previous posts.

To one side I have the lovely and quiet conservatory students - although one of them is not so quiet in the mouth and managed to get himself stabbed in the butt (with a knife! but thankfully only a flesh wound!) Hopefully now he'll think twice about mouthing off to the local hoodlums at 2 in the morning!

And to the other side I have the Boooyaaaahhhh!!!! Northeastern student neighbors. It's their favorite word: booyah. I hear it a lot. I am pretty sure they don't mean it in the sexual meaning way. I hope not anyhow.

They're the ones who like to par-tay and as mad as I get when they wake my cranky old-lady self up at 4am, when I go to yell at them, they completely win me over. Grrrrrrr.

They win me over by saving all their beer cans for me to give to the Vietnamese woman who comes around on trash days and take all our cans.

Because after their party that wakes me up at 4am, there is usually two or three big bags of cans, neatly bagged in drawstring bags just like she likes, ready for me to put down by the gate at the bottom of the garden.

And while I have no idea if the Vietnamese woman understands my wild hand gestures as I try to explain that I live next to hard drinking youths, that it's not that I drink such great quantities of NatLite, but I think that she now thinks that I feed my children beer.

And she was probably a physicist back in the old country.....

*sigh*

Anyway, between that and their offers to feed me mac & cheese right off the stove and out of the pan, it's hard to be mad for too long.

Although check with me Sunday. I was warned this morning that they plan to fight for their right to paaaaaaaaaaaaaaarty on Saturday night. I am of course invited. Growl. Grrrr.

Just kidding.....

I am NOT a cougar. Not after Thursday nights episode of 30 Rock. No way jose.