Wow, has it been that long already? And if so, where’s my reward? Don’t I get some kind of a reward, at least a trophy, a plaque, something to commemorate this occasion? Apparently not. At least not unless I buy it myself.

Nope, nothing to say good job, well done or way to go, I’m proud of you. Not even a checkered flag to be waved. Heck, at this point, I’d even settle for a high five. Oooops, I guess I shouldn’t have said high. At least not in this post. Unfortunately, there’s nothing to denote August 2, 2011 as being any more or any less special than any other day of the year. That’s not to say that it’s not special to me but as far as anybody else is concerned, it’s just another day on the calendar.

So that begs the question, why on earth am I even doing this? Suffering through this torture. After 5 years into this experiment, what’s the verdict? Good or bad? Right or wrong? Was this a good thing to do, to embark on this insane journey or not? This complete lifestyle change, this giving up of everything I ever related to as being ‘fun’. Hmmmmmm……..

Immediately what pops into my mind is something that happened about six months into this adventure. I remember it like it was yesterday as it seemed so odd at the time. Hey, there’s one thing positive about this journey. My long term (as well as my short term) memory seems to be a whole bunch better. But as I was saying, one thing that stands out in the beginning was a buddy that was celebrating twenty one years of sobriety. Wow, twenty one years.

My immediate reaction at the time was “What’s the big deal, at that point you pretty much know you’ve quit. You’re basically on Easy Street from here on out.” But his response to me was something I never expected, something I never even considered. He looked at me with a smile that basically said “You newbie idiot, you have no clue what you’re in for” and proceeded to explain to me that you get to a point in your journey to sobriety that you forget all the reasons you decided to quit. You forget about all of the bad times, all the times you swore to yourself that you’d never drink again. Which of course makes it that much harder to stay on track, to remain sober.

Which got me to thinkin’. I guess he could be right but with only six months under my belt, I really had no idea if I would even make it a year, let alone twenty one of them. And so not really knowing how to respond and knowing that all the reasons I HAD to quit were very fresh in my mind, I asked him if he could remember why he quit.

He then proceeded to tell me the story of how him and his wife were drunk, just hangin’ out like they quite often did and shooting up heroin. Heroin? Needless to say, that kinda got my attention. And as he went along in the story, I remember thinking that he must have been pretty heavy into drugs and alcohol to be shootin’ up heroin. That kinda stuff was way beyond anything that I would ever even consider doing, just way too far outta my league.

And then he told me that he actually stuck the needle in his wifes arm and injected her. I guess it’s easier to have someone else do it than it is to do it yourself. Next thing you know, she’s convulsing on the ground and then shortly thereafter, dead. Yes, she OD’d. And he couldn’t save her. I don’t know all of the other details, as far as if he was blamed for her death and if so, what kind of trouble did he get in but I would have to believe that living with the fact that you might have somehow contributed to the death of your wife has to be a fate worse than death. So when he says he needs to really focus on remembering why he MUST remain sober at all costs, that made me realize right then and there that this journey was only going to get increasingly more and more difficult as time went on.

How is that even possible? It was already hell and I had only just begun. To imagine that it would only get tougher to stay sober as time passed surely didn’t create any feeling of confidence, yet I knew that at that point in my life, I had run out of options and I had no other choice but to remain sober.

For at least the last ten years of my drinking, I was completely and utterly miserable. All of the fun had been replaced by daily thoughts of suicide and if I’d had more guts I more than likely would have followed through on it. Yes, I was THAT unhappy. But I was also that chicken and knowing that suicide is pretty much permanent, I decided that ending all forms of self medication was my one and only option.

So as I sit here typing this blog post, looking back on what has been a long and sometimes extremely lonely journey towards sobriety, more and more memories of why I just had to force myself to embark on a new path, a change of direction.

In reality, I had no other choice. It came down to sobriety or suicide and I have a feeling that suicide is a bit more permanent, whereas I can always go to 7/Eleven, pick up a 12 Pack and start drinkin’ again. Not that I will but it’s nice to know that I can. And equally as nice to know that I haven’t. I still have plenty of bad memories to keep me sober, I surely don’t need any more.

If you can relate to my journey, perhaps you’re on a journey to sobriety of your own and if you have any insight, thoughts or past expereinces that you’d like to share, I’d enjoy hearing about it and if you enjoyed this post, I’d appreciate it if you would share it with your friends. Thank you.

OK, so it took me four years. Four long and sometimes miserable years but I think I finally get it. I finally understand. Understand that I might have actually made a good decision for once in my life. The day I decided to jump on the wagon.

The day finally arrived that I came to my senses and decided to give it all up. Life as I knew it, this life of hell was officially gonna be over. No doubt it’s been a long road since then, an extremely long road and what makes it even worse is the fact that I’ve basically just begun my journey. My Journey To Sobriety.

Filled with all kinds of peaks and valleys. Mountains that would seemingly make Everest envious and lows that would make Death Valley a cool place to hang out in the summer. No doubt a Roller Coaster that isn’t meant for the weak and timid. Heck no, only the truly hard core need to buy a ticket for this ride.

Unfortunatley the highs of the mountains weren’t actually a good thing. They were neverending uphill stretches where each switchback would fool you into thinkin’ that you were almost there, only to find out that just around the bend was another hill twice as steep as the last.

Next thing you know, you’ve reached a plateau of sorts, seemingly allowing you to relax a bit, perhaps even let your guard down, take it easy for awhile. Short lived, this rest stop turns out to be filled with angst and indecision, not a place you really wanna hang out and so off your go again, off to trudge more unexplored highways and byways.

Both of which can be dangerous. Whether under your feet or in your mind, these Highways To Hell can surely eat you alive, if you let them. And more often than not, the choice isn’t yours. Staying busy mentally can be but isn’t always a good thing.

Sometimes your mind can start racing so fast that there’s no way possible to slow it down. All the woulda coulda shouldas start flyin’ through your brain, an endless stream of confusion, hitting you like a machine gone. No way to stop it, you can only sit there and take the self imposed barrage until the bullets run out. For now anyway.

I say for now because you never have any idea when and for how long this will go on. What you do know is it’s gonna be a Roller Coaster ride from hell and all you can do is hang on, ride it out, hands tucked under your thighs, doin’ your best to stop shakin’ and just praying for it to be over. And not a minute too soon.

Eventually it does end but you have no idea for how long. Your first inclination is to do anything possible to stop your mind. To put an end to all this stinkin’ thinkin’. To turn it off, to shut it down. At least for a while. Just long enough to stop this train from fallin’ off the tracks. But you know how it is. As soon as you tell yourself not to think about something, you’re instantly thinking about it….and nothing else.

Even though you continue to say don’t, you do. “Get the ‘F’ outta my head!” you hear yourself scream…. but to no avail. It’s still there, like that relentless caged hamster on the wheel, no way to make it stop. Eventually it does though, when you finally pass out from sheer exhaustion.

Of course the opposite of this stressful stretch are the days and nights where time seemingly stands still. Forward one second, backwards two seconds, forward two seconds, backwards three seconds and so on and so on it goes. Like time has basically stopped and all you’re doing is drowning in a sea of failure and regret. Yeah, it’s a wonderful feeling. NOT!

All you can do is just pray for the day to end so that you can finally go to sleep. Counting every second until darkness takes over the sky and hoping you’ll be tired enough to where your mind will finally just give up and you can fall asleep.

Only problem is, your brain never got the Memo and so it continues to twist and turn inside your head with no signs whatsoever of slowing down, let alone stopping. How you ended up with a brain battery stronger than the Energizer Bunny’s is a mystery to you but regardless, there’s no signs of sleep in your immediate future and so you just lay there and suffer through the Civilian Ridealong.

That’s when it dawns on you and you have to ask yourself how in the hell you ever got to sleep before, back in the good ol’ days? Back when you were drinkin’. I mean, with all this crap runnin’ through your mind, night after night, how did you ever manage to shut it off long enough to finally pass out?

Oh, that’s right. That’s exactly what I did. I partied ’till I eventually passed out. THAT’S how I was able to sleep. Well, if you could call it sleep anyway. Basically it was more like random hours of various stages of incoherency throughout the night, ending in the horrific buzzing of the alarm clock saying “Wake up, time to get ready for work!”

Head pounding, your first thought is what can I use for an excuse to get outta work this time? But then it dawns on you. If you take a day off work, that would mean less pay and even worse, you’d probably have to work a half day on Saturday which would totally kill your Friday night fun. Besides that, the fact that you couldn’t sleep in on Saturday morning would also be a drag.

So get out of bed you must…and you do. After a couple of snooze buttons of course. By this time you’re runnin’ late, scramblin’ to get out the door. As you run down the stairs to get to your car, the dizzy haze kinda kicks in and for a second you have to ask yourself where you parked.

Locating your car(luckily), you’re on your way to work and at this point, you’re glad you got outta bed and didn’t bother makin’ up some lie to get out of having to show up. That way you still have an excuse for a time when you REALLY need to get out of goin’ to work.

After all, you’re not feelin’ near as hungover as you thought you would and you know for sure there’s gonna be another time when you really feel like crap and HAVE to take the day off. I mean c’mon, it’s inevitable, right? Right.

Weird thing is, for some reason you seemed to have felt much better when you first woke up but apparently all this movement you’ve been doin’ all morning has kinda stirred things up again. And not in a good way.

It’s not like you recaught that same wonderful buzz you had last night. Oh Hell No! This is like the Evil Twin of last nights festivities. Last night was all fun, full of joy and laughter (at least from what you think you can remember) but today is full of nausea, throbbin’ headache and the feelin’ that something in your stomach wants to see the light of day all over again.

This is not good at all….and it’s only gonna get worse. Worse because you just realized that it’s only 8:30 and you still have to get through the entire day. At this point all you can do is concentrate on your lunch break. Maybe a half hour of laying down will save you.

Well, you can hope so anyway. At least it’s something else to concentrate on besides the bongos banging around inside your head. Why on earth didn’t you bring a bucket ‘o aspirin to work with you? Oh yeah, you didn’t feel like this when you first woke up. Hmmm, maybe you were still buzzin’ after all.

One thing’s for sure, it’s gonna be a very long day ahead. Why do you continue to do this to yourself? When will you ever learn? Apparently not anytime soon, that’s for sure because just about the time you leave work for the day, you’re already scowering your wallet to see if you have enough money to stop by the Beach Market on the way home to grab a sixer’.

All the bad feelings that you began your day with, just a distant memory at this point. You were sure that you wouldn’t be drinking again for quite some time and yet, here you are mapping out your stops on the drive home. Oh, they better have your brand on the shelf because if for some reason they’re sold out, then you’re gonna have to do tons more drivin’ before you can get your fix.

I can already feel the stress level boiling up as I sit here and type this. And I don’t even drink any more! Jeez, how did I ever live that life for as long as I did? All that stress, that misery, daily. No wonder I drank. I guess it was an attempt to make the hell of drinking go away. Talk about a vicious cycle.

Thankfully I’m no longer wobbling down that path. Nope, not me. I’m on a completely different journey now and after 1,463 days (not that I’m counting), one thing’s for certain, it’s way too late to turn back now.

The cool thing is though, I don’t want to turn around and go back to the life I used to live. No friggin’ thanks. The best part is that not too long ago I wouldn’t have been able to say that but I think I’m finally beginning to realize that stopping all of that ridiculous behavior was actually a smart move.

Maybe when you get to the point that the bright light that continues to shine in your eyes has changed from a Freight Train barreling down on you into ALL the beautiful lights that shine upon the Land Of Opportunity. A place where you can have anything, do anything, be anything you ever wanted, ever dreamed of.


Who’d a thought that the life I was living just four short years ago, a life I lived for many many years is finally changing from memories of misery to an actual learning experience, allowing me to grow from them and to expand my horizons.

Perhaps someday I will be able to look back on all of those years I consider to be time wasted and turn them around into being lessons that I can help others learn from. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? To help others avoid a life of misery and regret. That would truly make it all worth it.

And so I’ll continue to count the days, the days until I reach Lucky #5, five years in the Total Sobriety Society. I can only imagine how much wisdom I will have gained at that point. Wisdom that I can share with others. Can’t wait!

If you find yourself in a similar situation, can relate to this tale in any way, I’d enjoy hearing about it and if you liked this Post, I’d appreciate it if you’d share it with your friends.

Excuses, excuses, excuses. No mistake about it, we ALL use ‘em. Whether we like to admit it or not, we find ways each and every day to slip ‘em in wherever they’re needed most….to fit US.

Oh sure, we tend to attempt to disguise them as reasons but deep inside, we know the truth. They’re just a BS way of gettin’ in, out or around something. Something we did, didn’t do, should be doing or shouldn’t be, but any way you look at them, they’re just an escape of sorts.

Doesn’t really fix anything, just postpones things for a while. Hopefully until we can come up with a new excuse that sounds a little more legitimate and fits the situation better. Weird thing is, if we already know this is the case, why do we continue to make up excuses, knowing full well that nobody is really gonna buy ‘em, especially us?


I’m sure you’ve heard the ol’ saying, “Excuses are like assholes, everybody’s got ‘em and they ALL stink!” Sorry to sound so crude but I truly believe that this basically says it all. You ain’t buyin’ it, I ain’t even buyin’ it so at that point, why bother to sell it?

Seemingly they make us feel a bit better, a little less like a failure. Somehow thinking of it as more of a reason than an excuse tends to make everything ok. Like it was completely out of our hands, nothin’ we could do about it, not OUR fault. Yeah, right.


Don’t get me wrong here, every once in a while these excuses or reasons as the case may be are actually legit and hopefully they are believable enough to allow us to slide by but more than likely, they’ll just be looked upon as another BS excuse. I guess when you cry wolf so many times, nobody believes you any more and such is the case with excuses.


The worst ones are when you know that the only person that will even hear the excuse…. is YOU, in your head. That’s when you begin to hover around that fine line. The line between an excuse and outright just lying to yourself.

Even as you’re conjuring up the most creative reason you can think of, the other side of your brain is already sayin’ bullshit! Yet, you can still somehow manage to eek it out, to rationalize it, albeit with a sheepish inner grin of sorts, knowing that if you don’t even believe it, then who the hell else would.

Is any of this actually helping us to feel better in any way, helping to resolve conflicts? I’d have to think so or wouldn’t we just stop this silly inner dialogue altogether? Maybe. Maybe not.


For some reason we still hang on to the mentality that it’s gonna work this time. This time it’s actually legit, no BS, the real deal. But we know in our hearts that it’s not and so the torment begins.

Do we make excuses because it’s easy? Easier than facing the truth. Easier than having to follow through on whatever it is we’re supposed to be doing. Easier than facing the fact that we blew it, we made a mistake, did something wrong and now we have to face the music? Hmmmm……

Perhaps excuses are ego driven and created in an effort to save our pride? Ego and Pride, the Evil Twins! Either of these can take you down but get ‘em both working in tandem and it’s Dooms Day for sure. They will cause you do things that you already know you shouldn’t but in an effort to save yourself from looking like a fool, they kick in and who knows what’s gonna happen from there. Best of luck to you.

It’s funny how we think all of our excuses, ooops, reasons are for real but the minute someone else tries to lay one on us we don’t even begin to entertain the thought that it could be the truth. And if that’s the case, why the hell do we continue to expect others to believe us? Oh yeah, it’s because they’re all amateurs and I’m a pro. A professional excuse maker, now THAT’S some kinda fancy title.

I mean, with all my experience at making excuses for everything, why I can’t do this, can’t do that, I’d have to be considered a Pro by now. Correct? Thank you.

My excuses run the full spectrum, they fit pretty much all occasions and can be used in just about any situation you can think of. They’re basically universal. They can be used for both good AND evil. In fact, most of them tend to do more harm than good. Yikes!

The more I think about it, most of mine seem to be used in such a way as to save me from failure. No doubt I, like most everyone, have a fear of failure. Not sure if it’s more or less present than everyone elses but never the less, it’s there and it never lets me forget it’s there either.

I’m sure it started from when I was a kid and doing something wrong or not as well as I should have would lead to trouble of some sort. Whether it was a scolding or a spanking, either way failing at anything wasn’t gonna turn out to be a pleasant experience.

No doubt looking like a failure in front of my peers also played into it as time went on but I still have to think that it started even earlier than that. Nobody wants to look like a dufus in front of their friends but they’re not gonna kick your butt like your Dad will! That’s a fear of failure.

I kinda had a built in excuse for quite awhile but I had to let that go about four years ago. That’s about the time I quit drinking. I gotta admit, it was nice havin’ a default reason for failing. Basically it’s not my fault, by default. If (and when) I screwed up on anything, I could always say, “Oh, I was drunk when I did that, that’s why I f’d it up” and for the most part, I was drunk (or worse) most every waking moment of every day and so it was pretty damn convenient. Came in handy on lots of occasions.

Unfortunately I had to quit drinking and when I did, I had to say goodbye to my ready made excuse. Which really sucks as now I have to be so much more creative.

Perhaps by no longer drinking, it’s also made it much more difficult for me to get these excuses past my on board BS Detector. Ah, no wonder they’re not workin’ for me anymore. I’m startin’ to call myself out on my own BS. That’s not good. Isn’t that someone elses job?

I guess not. Apparently it’s up to me to face my own music and live up to my own standards. Damn it, I was hoping it was gonna be easier than that.

I sure wish they had some kind of an online store, like an “Excuses R Us” type of thing where you could just download some ready made excuses, narrowed down into different categories like “I didn’t say that”, “I didn’t mean that”, I didn’t do that”, “I was drunk when that happened”, basically excuses to cover all the different possibilities.


Hmmmm? Maybe I’ll start a Membership Site as a way of creating some passive residual income. After all, I’m a Pro at making up excuses, so it should be no problem to look back through my vast BS Library and jot down a few thousand of ‘em.

Then I can just submit new ones monthly as a way of adding value to the Site and giving my customers what they really need. This is beginning to sound like a winner already. I mean, who on earth doesn’t love (and NEED) excuses and to have them ready for instant download and covering every conceivable circumstance, I can already smell the cash in my Pay Pal account from here!

Who’d a thought that all these years of making up excuses (lying to myself) could turn out to be a money maker? Not me, that’s for sure.

Hey, wait a second. What if I go through all the work of setting up the Website, buying a Domain, setting up Hosting, getting an Auto Responder configured, creating new content and everything else that goes into building a business, not counting all the expense involved and then the entire thing tanks? That would totally suck!

Well, as it turns out, I’m kinda too busy anyway, I mean with all I’ve got goin’ on, you know, all the stuff I’m doin’, all the things I have scheduled in the near future. Besides, you know how it is, you never know what might come up that could take away even more of my free time and then what would I do? I don’t have enough time as it is now, how could I ever hope to run a new website, let alone on auto pilot. So much for that idea, just ain’t gonna work.

Phew, that was a close one! Good thing I’m such an Excuse Pro, sure saved me again from an impending failure.

If you can relate to making excuses of your own, real or not, I’d enjoy hearing about it and if you enjoyed this Post, I’d appreciate it if you’d share it with your friends.

Although this is a bit off the beaten path for my blogging, I have to admit that this is a topic that has struck a nerve with me and therefore, at the risk of offending, even losing a few of my beloved readers, I feel strongly enough about it that I’m going to voice my opinion. Take it or leave it, for better or worse and all that good stuff.

Politics and Religion, two topics that I know better than to even mess with. As they say, “Don’t EVEN go there!” But, despite my better judgement, I’m goin’ there.

A situation has come up recently regarding some unneighborly neighbors and their terrorizing of the neighborhood and the decent citizens that live within this neighborhood. Long story short, it’s a household containing one worthless, grouchy ol’ (in his 70s?) drunk, one 1960′s psycho ex Flower Power hippie reject artist (his wife) and four sons of various degrees of drug/alcohol rehab and incarciration. Not exactly the typical Leave It To Beaver household.

No doubt many of you can relate to this group of misfits. Lots of these Walton families exist in every community throughout our wonderful nation. And each stands out more to their victims living close by than to those who never actually get to experience the pleasure of coming in contact with them.

Dealing first hand with this group of losers is always a gamble. You never know if the soft and friendly approach is best or not. While this will work in most everyday interactions with people that have an ounce of decency and any sort of semblance of respect for their neighbors, for others it may not. These are people that all want to live in harmony with their surroundings and the people that make up their neighborhood.

Then there are the others, the worthless idiots that couldn’t care less about how what they do effects anyone or anything else around them. Yeah, real winners. I should say losers. That seems to be more appropriate. People that have nothing better to do than to make everyone elses life miserable. If they’re gonna be miserable, might as well take everybody else down with ‘em.

I hate to judge people based on what others have said about them. Not knowing the history of the previous encounters that lead them to their perceptions, I never like to pass judgement on someone based on another persons interactions. Like they say, there are two sides to every story.

While I must admit, the laundry list of evidence against this family has been longer than the list of incriminating evidence against O.J. but if you recall, he was found not guilty. And so I had to approach the situation with an open mind. I mean c’mon, can a family really be THIS bad? Apparently so.

Now while I myself had never had a previous run-in of any sort with these people, I guess that’s mainly because I just wasn’t around the situation enough to ever have to deal with it or them. I’ve been lucky enough to have a friend let me stay in his Cabin near the lake in exchange for some home and yard maintenance and so far, I’ve been up here about five weeks. Sweet deal to say the least. No doubt I’ll end up with a blog post or two about my summer at the Lake.

As far as my opinion of the Hatfields (or is it the McCoys?) is concerned, everything changed for me yesterday and now I’m a convert, a true believer in what the others have said about him and his family. I found out for myself that this guy, the Leader of the pack, is a complete piece of shit!

Yep, them’s strong words I know but in this case, not nearly strong enough. Every time I see him walk by with his Pit Bulls (nothing against Pit Bulls, I think they can be great dogs in the care of responsible pet owners, which these people clearly aren’t. They continually let their dogs roam unleashed throughout the neighborhood, free to terrorize and poop wherever they please) I expect to hear a couple of banjos start to play (think Deliverance) and I immediately begin to hear Ned Beatty scream somewhere off in the distance.

This guy is the epitomy of one of those guys that lives wayyyyy back in the swamp, livin’ off the land, zero education, a product of incest. Yikes, now I’m even scaring myself!

Supposedly he used to work for the Studios in Hollywood and his wife was an artist but right about now, I’m having a hard time believing any of that. I’m choosing to go with the ‘Swamp Thing’ scenario and as far as I’m concerned, he’s havin’ (or had) sexual relations with his sister.

My friends (the owners of the Cabin) and a few other friends from around the neighborhood were relaxing on the front porch the night of July 4th, telling stories and just generally BS’n’ about all the fun we had enjoying the fireworks display that had just taken place. Watching all of the colors reflecting off the water, what seemed like a thousand boats floating out in the middle of this sea of colors, truly an amazing spectacle (more in another post).

Ok, I know sitting on the front porch, talkin’ BS sounds a bit Hillbilly~ish as well but up here, the stars are so close you can almost reach up and touch ‘em. It’s so wonderful just to sit outside and star gaze. That is, of course, unless an idiot neighbor has his flood lights on. And so the real story begins.

Doing our best to enjoy the evening, we were relentlessly confronted by this glaring light and with the houses all built on different levels, this one particular light is right at eye level. No shroud around it, just a light that looks like it was bolted way up in a tree to shine down on his parking area. No problem or so you’d think.

Well, when you have an unshrouded light that casts shadows 300 yards away, THAT’S a problem! At least for everyone within 300 yards of it! There’s a reason that they don’t have overhead street lights up here, same as in the desert. It’s to preserve the night sky. That’s why people leave the city in an effort to see an eclipse or even just to enjoy the stars. When you live in a world full of light pollution, all you can see is the next McDonalds sign down the street.

And so my buddy, that owns this Cabin, went down to his house to talk to him about the light and a miracle occured, the light went out. Oh, how we all cheered. Suddenly you weren’t in the City, you were back up in the mountains, at the lake, enjoying the night sky.

Well, that lasted about a day and then the light was back on. He even leaves it on during the day. Why, who knows. Maybe that’s how they roll in the swamp. Come to think about it, maybe that’s why he leaves it on all the time, they don’t actually have electricity in the swamp and he’s still enthralled by the magic of it all.

So yesterday morning, as he was roamin’ the dogs without a leash I asked him if we could come to some sort of a compromise that would benefit him and all his neighbors (that he’s buggin’ the shit out of). I told him I’d even buy the shroud for it or a whole new light if I had to. Anything to try and stop the paint from peeling off the front of everybodys cabins from his glaring onslaught.

He was more than fine with it, even going so far as to tell me that he had a ladder I could use if I needed to get access that far up in the tree. I told him no problem, I’m glad to do what I can to save the summer nights. I knew I’d be heading back down the hill in the next few days and I’d stop by Home Dump and pick one up. Right on, problem solved. Or so I thought anyway.

I went over there to check it out last evening to see how I was gonna tackle it. Would I need a shroud or an entirely new light? Let’s take a look. After a couple minutes, I decided might as well get a whole new light rather than try to half ass something on there. That way everybody’s happy.

As I stroll back across the street, here comes this drunk ass lunatic, waving his flashlight at me, yelling at the top of his lungs, “HEY YOU, HEY YOU!” he knows my name but must have forgotten it in his drunken rage. Then the cussing starts. “‘F’ YOU, ‘F’ THEM (as he points his flashlight at all the neighbors houses), ‘F’ ALL YOU PEOPLE, I’M NOT CHANGING THAT LIGHT! ‘F’ YOU!!!”

So I reminded him that I said I was gonna take care of it. He wouldn’t have to dig a coffee can out of the ground in his backyard for any coins. The light would just magically appear and everybody would be happy. He wasn’t havin’ none of that. He just kept on ranting and raving, screaming at the top of his lungs.

At first I thought he was joking, since he was totally on board with it six hours earlier but once I realized just how plastered he was, screaming at the top of his lungs at 10 o’clock at night, it began to dawn on me that this guy is just out of his mind.

He’s a mentally challenged (pickled brain) worthless old man and the best thing to do would be to bite my tongue. I did my best to contain my laughter but based on what a fool he was making of himself, I admit to letting out a couple chuckles. Hey, I tried.

You could tell he wanted to hit me but without his Pit Bull or his psychotic sons to back him up, he didn’t dare take a chance. I just stood there and let him go off. Like they say, you can’t argue with an idiot and so I let him go on until he ran out of hot air, agreeing with everything he said.

As he stumbled out of the yard and down the street, I just kept hoping he’d fall flat on his face on the asphalt but damn it, no such luck. I’m a firm believer in Karma so I know he’ll get his sooner or later, I just hope it’s sooner than later. In fact, I can hardly wait!

As I contemplated the evenings festivities, one question continually popped into my head. What made him change his mind, from one second being all for it and the next, totally against it? Then it finally dawned on me. Earlier that afternoon, while he was roamin’ his dogs, he saw that my neighbor, who despises him, was on the front steps and her and I were talking.

Both her and her husband are the nicest people on earth, big time church goers and they love everybody. Everybody except him and his family. Apparently the Hatfield and McCoy Family Feud has been going on for quite some time between them and it doesn’t appear it’s gonna end anytime soon.

As he walked by, she mentioned that one of his dogs had chased a friend of hers and boy, was he shocked to hear that (Yeah, right). He mumbled something about how “He’s never seen the dog do THAT before” and continued on his way.

I think it was at that point that his sick paranoid mind began to take over and he realized that it was all a conspiracy against him. Oooohhh, what could we have been planning? First, it’s the obnoxious overhead light, then it’s the obnoxious dogs, then what, the obnoxious color of his truck? OMG, when will it all stop?

As the one remaining bent, rusty and squeaky wheel continued to spin at a snails pace inside his brain, he obviously went into panic mode. All these people, they’re all against me, they all hate me and I can’t understand why!!! So he did the only thing he knew how to do, GET HAMMERED!

He lives in a constant state of fear, fear that he’s created all by himself. That’s the reason behind the overhead light. He’s afraid that someone’s going to break into his truck and try to steal something or better yet, steal the entire truck. And if he has a light on, he’ll be able to stop ‘em.

Too bad the jackass doesn’t realize that the only people that are going to do that are his own kids and they’ll just take his keys while he’s passed out on the couch, if they need to make a late night drug run. The light only makes it easier for them to see what’s in the baggie they just brought home.

To give you an example of just how sweet his kids are, the only semi coherent one (brain fried by drugs & alcohol) came by a few weeks ago to say he hoped that his brothers hadn’t been breaking in to all the houses close by, including this one, only the ones farther away (perhaps that’s why I haven’t seen the other three lately, they’re in jail) and this is coming from a guy that went to jail himself for threatening to kill his parents (too bad he didn’t follow through, like everything else in his life).

He’s so paranoid of the exact nightmare that he himself has created. He’s brought that Los Angeles Theft / Drug Ring mentality up to the mountains with him, which in actuality is pretty accurate since his family perpetuates it.

All this brings up the question, how do you deal with a psycho neighbor from hell? Hmmmm, good question. A friend brought up the fact that he’s a miserable person (got that) and he’s taking his misery out on those that surround him. Therefore, we should pray that he gets better.

That’s all fine and dandy but prayers seem to take an awful long time to come to fruition and so what do we do in the mean time, in the REAL world? How do we deal with someone that is a constant threat to everyone he comes in contact with? Forcing everyone to live in fear of retaliation from him and his sons, never knowing if your home, your car, even yourself will be damaged at the hands of these lunatics.

Calling the Sheriff obviously won’t do any good. They are on everybodys speed dial and they’re here so often that they might as well set up a Sub Station. Hey, come to think of it, there’s already a light set up so they can conduct their night operations without any problems.

So what are we left with? Do we really have any alternatives other than to just continue to live our lives in fear of retaliation? I guess we can start off by praying, hoping that someday he’ll see the light, realize what a nightmare he’s creating for so many others around him and all of a sudden become a courteous and conscienceous neighbor. Yeah, I agree, doesn’t sound too likely but I guess there’s always hope.

Or we could go with Plan B, which is to wait until he steps one foot on the property and then at that point the only decision will be whether or not he gets a single or a double barrel dose of reality. The choice is his to make.

If you can relate to havin’ some crappy neighbors, I always appreciate your feedback whether it’s positive or negative and if you enjoyed this post, please feel free to share it with your friends, whether on Facebook or Twitter, anywhere you hang out.