The other evening I was sitting in my living room, minding my own beeswax and investigating various porn matters when suddenly
KA DABAM BOOMPOW
A huge noise erupted seemingly at my feet. It was such a perfect cacophony that it seemed like it couldn’t possibly be real, like it was just another CGI effect. If Saki were still with me, he would have bolted under the couch and for an instant I considered what a sensible idea that seemed like.
Once I finally tiptoed over to the window I saw some fat head had managed to crash into the tree directly below me. Considering there are only two trees left of the original 11, it’s pretty amazing he managed to nail it. In fact, another foot to the left and he would have missed it entirely and plowed into the front of my building instead.
Tree or no tree, it’s confounding how he wound up where he did. It’s as if he decided to make a hard right in the middle of the block. Baby what’s up with that? Did your GPS fuck you over?
I called 911, because that’s how big responsible citizens behave. Besides I couldn’t think of what else to do. The operator there was incredibly chill, she sounded like she was hanging out with a glass of white wine and a few Valium. She did get a little testy when I couldn’t describe the car to her satisfaction. I don’t know what difference it would have made whether it was a sedan or an SUV. It’s not like there was a crowd of wrecked cars down on the sidewalk for the responders to pick from.
Eventually the cops showed up, the fireman, the ambulance, the tow truck, just everybody who is anybody was there. I sort of lost interest and never did see what happened to the driver. Apparently he had wandered off at some point and then resurfaced; I overheard one of the cops ask him “Is this your car?” “It was,” he replied. If only someday I could be that cool.
guys who would wreck you
One can only envy his neighbors.
Truth in advertising.
Workin’ hard or hardly workin’? hyuck hyuck hyuck.
Talent.
Inky, not stinky.
More nice tile work.
mrpeenee 
Before I’d scrolled down past the photo, I was mildly aghast that one of those horrid old sycamores was still there. Reading on, it turns out that there’s something to be said about not getting rid of old wood.
In other matters, I find myself rather drawn to that young man in advertising with the lovely, hairy forearms and legs and…
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…and ….
I’m very annoyed those last two sycamores are still hanging around, there’s no good reason that they didn’t get the ax when the other nine did.
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IDV mentions old wood – I’m rather more drawn to the young sapling in the last photo (although, truth be told, I’d have the whole forest)!
I wish some drunken idiot could smash the hideous overhanging sycamores in next door’s garden, but that would require a feat of skilled “sky-driving”, as the gardens have no access from the road… Jx
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As the driver the other night has pointed out, “access” can be a matter of simply pointing the car and hitting the gas. “Sky-driving” heeheehee.
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Aren’t you glad the sycamore kept the idiot from adding a drive-through to your building?
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Definitely. In fact, it’s probably the only thing about those miserable sticks that I am glad about.
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Few weeks ago, I was awakened at 4AM by loud music momentarily blaring out of a car. If you knew where I lived (and I bet you wish you did) you’d understand why I thought this odd. I got up, went into the living & looked out the window. There was a car parked in front of the house & a person (looked like a dude) sitting on my lawn. This seemed strange so I stood there & watched him. In a bit, he got up & walked in circles, sat down, got up, you get the picture. As I watched, I got uncomfortable. I mean, was he gonna walk up to the house? Was he sick? Was he hurt? I figured he was drunk or high, but who knows?
SO, for the very first time in my life, I phoned 911. Woman on the answering end wanted to know what color the car was (it was dark out, I had no idea). She said she’d send a car by. She also said if the person left I had to call her back! That didn’t sit too well with me as I stood there & waited & waited & waited. BTW, the dude at some point got up, opened the passenger door, got into his car & that was that. Finally a squad car did appear & I watched the cop bang on the glass with a flashlight, get the dude out of the car & take him away.
Next morning as I was driving away from my house, THE CAR pulled up right by me & banged a U-ee. The car was blue!
Peenee, I almost feel like we’re living the same life!
And yes, I know I have a blog of my own, but somehow it’s so much more fun writing here.
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You’re right, I do wish I knew where you lived. I would stalk you via Google maps SO HARD.
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Did he actually take the tree out? Because it’s way past due. Perhaps he was an irritated gardener who had just had enough.
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The first and only time I called the police was to report a prowler lurking in the neighbours garden in the early hours of the morning, the dim witted police operator, without any ounce of rush, wanted to know my name and address I could hear her tip-tapping the information on the computer, she even asked if the street name was spelt with one L or two, then she asked for my date of birth. something in me took over, panic at revealing my age and remembering that old adage from school “Snitches get stitches” I hung up and opened the bedroom window and in my best Nora Batty voice told the prowler to piss off to which he went scurrying down the street with his jacket pulled over his head.
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