Seriously, God, stop calling my house.

These past few days in my neighborhood have been filled with mysterious, sporadic phone calls that when answered, no one is on the other end. Ruling out the possibilities of a murderer, stalker, or rapist, here are my theories:

1) The phone lines are simply fucked up due to poor service

or...

2) God is phoning down from the heavens and prank calling our houses in an attempt to warn us that we either stop being the partying, drinking, morally corrupt booze-bags that we are; or be eternally condemned to Hell

Clearly, #2 is the more plausible. Obviously.

If there ever existed a large group of people that could constantly piss everyone off without even trying to due to their physical state of intoxication, then my neighbors definitely fit that profile. Weekends on my street are filled with late-night parties held by my thirty-something-year-old neighbors that still live at home with their parents and since I live directly next-door to them, my family and I get the brunt of the torture: headlights constantly shining in our windows and the steady bass sound of club music blaring from within their house. NOT TO MENTION the occasional Indie Rock concert being held in their backyard (equipped with microphone and amps), which is especially annoying during the summer months since we sleep with the windows open.

So let me offer my formal rebuttal, neighbors whose last name I cannot spell correctly. If you ever come across this please take the hint: WE. HATE. YOU. Like, in all seriousness, we really do. The whole neighborhood. Your house is not a night club. Also, to whoever the hell is singing in your backyard all the time with their acoustic guitar: you should really invest in singing lessons because you suck. Listening to you sing makes me want to kick puppies......Just kidding! It makes me want to kick kittens. Not kidding. Somebody please explain to me the fact that you all party from 8:00 at night until 3:00 in the morning! Do you not like to sleep at night?! Apparently you all feel the need to make it so that everyone else on the street is not able to do so either. Regardless, whenever all of you do find time to sleep it is never enough because I see you walk outside almost every day and get your mail (stalker-ish, I know) and you look like a paralysis patient undergoing physical therapy by actually being forced to get up off the couch and walk. Each time one of you slumps out to the mailbox the day after an all-nighter this is what I think to myself:

"HA, neighbor-with-the-weird-last-name! Suck it! I bet that bright sun and chirping birds are really doing wonders for your hangover right now and there is nothing you can do about it!"

But then comes the harsh realization that it doesn't matter that they can't do anything about it. They will get their mail and go back into the house and sleep until 8:00 at night (because they are 30-years-old and have no job), at which point they will start the whole process over again. Damn you neighbors! God obviously sent us a clear-cut sign that you need to stop acting like college students but NO, you chose to ignore it. The blaring sound of wannabe night club music probably masked the sound of the phone ringing. Well done. Your neglect to act age-appropriate is negatively effecting the entire neighborhood and because of this we are all doomed to spend eternity listening to your noise pollution. See you in Hell.