Deux Gars, pas des filles

For the most part, K and I are quite content in our new digs. There are lots of families, a playground outside our window, a couple of friendly dogs, some nice little old ladies, cats, and birds attacking the new bird feeder on the balcony.

But like any apartment building, there is someone to there who tempers any completely positive feeling about the place. In Ste-Anne-de-Bellevue, it was Mr. Stinky Man. I’ll never forget Mr. Stinky Man as he said goodbye to me. He was lugging his weekend 2-4 of Bleu Dry and suffering a runny nose to which he was oblivious.

“Well, you two were good neighbours. You were quiet and everything,” he said wistfully, his chin covered in snot. “Hey, the new girl who’s taking your apartment? She works with you at the airline. Is she a flight attendant? She sure is attractive. She’s nice looking, hey? Hey?”

Strange that I don’t miss Stinky Man and his habit of hanging his washing while wearing his Y-fronts right outside our kitchen window.

This time the neighbours we have are two young, presumably single men who don’t seem to give a flying fuck about anyone else in the building, thus throwing off what I’ve observed to be the cordial, yet distant relationship that exists among the 18 units in the place. They leave their mountain bikes by our door – but not so close as to be an outright violation of personal space. They play their ützmüsik (ootz-ootz-ootz) late at night – but never past midnight. So it’s not enough to be considered outright obnoxious and hey, it means we can have friends over late at night and not worry about the noise. So that’s not what bothers me.

It’s their weiner dog. Young guys tend get dogs not out of any love of animals but because it seems like it’s the cool thing to do. After the novelty wears off, they become a chore and an annoyance. They don’t consider things like paying attention to their pet, or walking him, giving him exercise, etc. The dog is just a yappy thing that runs under their feet when they stumble home drunk on Saturdays. The other day, one of the dudes was walking the dog by which I mean he was yanking it around in front of the building long enough for it to take a dump. The neighbourhood is surprisingly conscientious about picking up after their dogs. Due to a recent transgression a sign appeared on the trash can inside the apartment’s foyer:

“THIS IS NOT FOR DOG SHIT.”

Any guesses as to who was responsible? Anyway, the dog would want to waddle off and smell something and Dude would just agressively yank him back. Ooh, tough guy. Way to show an animal 1/10th your size who’s boss, eh? Mind you, you still have to pick up his crap so really, you’re still an asshole.

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