Reason number twelve why I loathe the suburbs.

[hopefulnebula]

The local police just rang the doorbell. The neighbor kids are apparently out of jail again (and I use the term loosely; the first time this happened, they were kids. They're well beyond that now, IIRC, at least chronologically) and decided to have a little fun last night. Now, "fun" in their sense of the word is not "going bowling with your friends" or "watching the game" or "reading a good book." "Fun" for them is "Hahahah, let's go get pissed and find big rocks and throw them at things! Oooh, and we can steal shit too..." Anyway, the police asked if the car parked in front of the house is ours. (It is; it's my dad's '68 Bronco. Granted, the thing's a PoS and he's replacing it this summer, but still.) You can guess from their definition of the word "fun" what they did to it. *sigh*

People suck, you know that?

Comments

[snow-beast.livejournal.com]

Whee, sounds like perfect frat material. A favorite drunken game of the frats on my campus, about 100 years ago, was "orange golfing." As my window was right next to an orange tree, you can bet how much I enjoyed being a spectator to that sport... at 2AM. =P

[hopefulnebula]

Aah, turns out it wasn't a rock but about a dozen eggs. That's worse, though... glass is easier to replace than paint.

Orange golfing? Joy. We have a "naked golf" day... it coincided with the last big open house when I was a "prospective" (I use that term loosely because I already knew I was going there.) "Hilarity" (a term so loose it's falling off) ensued.