Mr. Dumbass: Part 2

If you read my previous post, you’ll recall that I was about to embark on a war of sorts with my neighbour (affectionately known as Mr. Dumbass) and his obnoxiously loud stereo.   Just when I had my fill and was heading out the door to break said neighbour’s face,  I happened upon a police officer on my street and asked him to intervene.  He went on his way and I went back home, only to find that Mr. D. was still playing his stereo at 140dB (that’s as loud as a jet, by the way; I looked it up).  Mr. Friendly Neighbourhood Police Officer hadn’t performed his duty, and I was pissed.

So off I go again, this time determined to either kill the S.O.B (my neighbour or the cop; who ever I saw first) and get some peace and quiet.  I jumped in my car, drove around the corner (Mr. Dumbass lives on the street over; our backyards almost corner each other) and what do I see but a police cruiser stopped by the side of the street,  its occupant leaning into the passenger side having a friendly confab with a passerby on the sidewalk.  Why, it’s Mr. Friendly Neighbourhood Police Officer!  I drive by Mr. FNPO and try to get his attention.  I fail.  (Fine, I tell myself.  If I kill Mr. Dumbass it’ll be on your head.)

I pulled up in Dumbass’ driveway and knocked on the door.  And rung the bell.  And knocked on the door again.  Mr. Dumbass Junior answered, and we have a brief chat. I never did get to kill maim beat the living shit out of see Mr. Dumbass.

I leave Junior to do the deed with his dad and jumped in my car again, this time pulling into a driveway just a few feet away from Mr. Friendly’s cruiser.  I waited on the sidewalk until the confab is over, and then popped my head in the passenger side window.  Me again, I say.  I informed Mr. FNPO of my visit to Mr. Dumbass and my confab with Dumbass Junior.  I don’t think he gave a shit, although he was very polite. Then I went home. To my great relief, it was quiet.  Junior came through for me. Yay Junior.

An oh–I received a refund from that website I mentioned earlier. Yay website.

Here are some beachy photos†,  just to celebrate my victory over noise pollution and useless apps:

Sailboats on Lake Huron, 2011

A little visitor while sitting on the beach.

Bora Bora

Buddy and his toy.

† all photos are mine except for Bora Bora, but I will take credit for sprucing it up a little.

Mr. Dumbass’ Neighbourhood

It’s 28 degrees celsius today (82 fahrenheit.)  When it’s this hot I usually have my air conditioning on, but it’s March so it’s too soon.  My dumbass neighbour, of course, has his crappy music blasting all over the neighbourhood.  I wish Canadians weren’t so complaisant; NO-ONE every complains (but me of course).  I even phoned the cops last year during his 48-hour party fest over Canada Day.  I think the police may have joined the party because the music kept on coming.

Anyway, I decided to crank up the sound on the television and surf the net instead of running across the yard in my underwear and beating the shit outta that asshole.  What ensued is his fault.

I found this a very cool site which creates photo effects for photoshop.  Each sell at $20, but the entire set can be had for $50.  The site had several very clear videos on how to download and install.  Since I’ve always wanted these neat “actions”, as they’re called, I bought the $50 pack.

It won’t install–at least in photoshop elements.  I checked around the site, and there was nothing written about having to have CS 5, the hi-falluting (and mega-expensive) full version.

And if you have a problem you have to go to the Facebook page.  This really pissed me off.  You buy something there’s no customer service?  I went to their Facebook page and got testy.  They better help me, or refund my money.

On another note:  I finally decided to go beat the crap outta my dumbass neighbour.  I picked up my keys, put my shorts back on, and went out to the car.  Lo and behold, what do I see down the street is a police officer and my chagrined neighbour (not the dumbass; my next door neighbour).  He has a loud-ass motorcycle (another problem) and got pulled over.  Yay for small victories.

I wait an age for the police officer to finish with him, and grab him.  He wants to know which house.  I tell him that he has to come to my backyard and see the house; I don’t know the address.  He doesn’t want to to that, and drives off to “find” the house.  Needless to say, he didn’t find it and the dumbass is still cranking out the tunes.

Now I’m gonna go out for real and kick butt.  See you later.  Maybe from jail.