Neighbors and La Musica

Today's big score was that I found the bag of powdered sugar that I knew was in this apartment somewhere and so tomorrow I can make cupcakes. If it weren't for the fact that we have neighbors, I might drag out the vacuum right now but we DO have neighbors and I don't want anyone to have a reason to bust a cap in my ass or whatever it is that they do to people they don't especially care for here in the barrio so I'll behave myself and just write my nice lil' blog post which only makes little keyboard clicky noises. Not that the neighbors seem to give a rat's ass about preserving peace and quiet. I swear that the people downstairs were born in (and perhaps until they moved here still lived in) a barn. I am usually not one to cast aspersions on anyone's looks but the woman who lives downstairs has got to be one of the ugliest specimens of humanity I have run across in quite some time. Holy Mother of Pearl!

(Not my actual neighbor but, very much similar)

And all day long they SLAM. THE. DOOR. whenever they go in or out. So much so that it shakes my floor. WTF? There is at least one teenage girl living down there, too, who aspires to be a cheerleader. How do I know this? Because BuffyMuffina practices her cheers out on the sidewalk. Loudly. With much lack of coordination. But she has the gigglejiggleteehee down, so I think she might make a career of the cheerleading.

But I, dear Internetz, am more polite than that so I don't vacuum at all hours of the night, nor do I stomple across my floor or slam my doors. And I try to muster up a smile when neighbor lady is sitting outside (I am still trying to figure out why she had a number of household items artfully displayed outside her unit the other day... I THINK it was some sort of yard sale attempt, but she was lurking in her doorway in a way that just made me think of a trapdoor spider (watch the animation) and when I walked by she didn't say anything (in my old neighborhood at the Boulevard of Broken Dreams, they would have shamelessly tried to sell you their shit and then called you white trash when you bought it!)

I still marvel at the musica that we hear around here. I always thought that the stuff you heard in Speedy Gonzalez cartoons was an exaggerated stereotype and it's NOT. The folks around here listen to some very interesting shiz. Mariachi, it's not just for half-assed "Mexican" restaurants on the Frozen Tundra anymore! (Where the spiciest thing in the kitchen is a bottle of ketchup!)

Finally, I have to give mad props to The Bloggess for THIS gem. Some day I'm gonna have to meet that woman... she cracks me up on a regular basis! Oh! Oh! And yeah...go check out Crissy and her panty drawer! (Don't look at me like that, Internetz...)