June 30, 2004

Today is the day to get smart.

Buy my book!

Here is an article that I have been working on for an eternity. Enjoy it or perish.

Dear Zulk Throws it Back in Your Court

So yesterday I asked my readers how a particular website owner might deal with random, drive-by noisy neighbors, the kind who appear to enjoy walking down the street, shrieking at 4 a.m., or even lifting up the window at said witchingo hour just to howl. It's hard to call the cops when you don't know who is doing what, and screaming back seems so gauche. So I got some good advice. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Dear Zulk,
The only, and inadequate, solution is to get a very loud fan.
Signed,
I Hate My Neighbors

Dear Zulk,

I often suffer from late-night hollering. The first step in dealing with it is to assess the cause.

If, for instance, the problem is a bunch of yahoos driving up and down your street hollering and honking their horns and waving Portuguese flags, there's not much you can do other than wait for the Euro Cup to be over, and plan to be out of town during World Cup 2006.

If it's your neighbours making the racket, approach them directly. Call them up (you can find their number if you don't even know their names here. Ask them gently to consider the hour and maybe try to watch their volume. They will laugh, you will scream obscenities, and they will hang up. Next step is to keep calling them back over and over until they leave the phone off the hook, at which point you should call the police.

When calling the police, it's important to use the correct terminology. Don't say, "my neighbours are loud," say, "I'd like to report a domestic distrubance. It sounds like something violent is happening next door, and I'm concerned because I think they have a new baby in the house." A really
nice thing to do is to give the police your roommate's name instead of your own. That way, she will be treated as a hero when the police save the baby! And she'll be the one the neighbours come over to thank for straightening out their lives. Or something.

Finally, when all else fails, you can always while away the sleepless nights with a new hobby, like playing the violin. Or the accordion. Or the trumpet.

Best,

J.A.

Dear Zulk,

You yell out the window, "Hey, it's funny...my dog used to make that exact same noise. That is until someone shot him. Fido is buried in the backyard. I was saving a spot next to him for when I go, but you never know--could get filled sooner than that." Then wink at noise-maker, flash a friendly smile, and slam window shut. Wait two minutes and open the window again. That should take care of it.

-KP

Dear Zulk,

My response to today's query...

Victor's "Cute Noise" Survival Kit:

1 bullhorn
1 rainbow wig
1 adult diaper
1 dozen eggs (white or brown, your choice)
1 wiffle ball bat
9 wiffle balls

"Cute Noise" is defined as "any variety of unnecessary
and/or overly-theatrical sounds - spoken or otherwise
- that occur at inappropriate times, and give the
sounds' creators feelings of devil-may-care coolness
while slowly driving those within their audible radius
completely loco in the coco." ("Coco" is defined as
your brain.)

Let's face it, "pent up" is an awful description - one
you should avoid at all costs. It's never a good
thing to keep negative emotions in check. So when
early morning rabble-rousers - those odious, misguided
attention-mongers - tweak the flow of your nocturnal
emissions and push your buttons, don't fight it. Just
go with it. Realize you're not gonna get any sleep.
Embrace it. And most importantly, turn it around.

First, put on your rainbow wig and adult diaper. Then
grab your bullhorn, eggs, bat and balls and run out
onto the street. At a safe distance from the
nincompoops, announce something ridiculous through the
bullhorn. "Now see here! Y'all boogie-woogie bitches
best be rememberin' my birthday!" Something like
that.

Immediately start hitting the wiffle balls at them.
You have my word: swatting the balls will feel
incredibly cathartic. As the confusion escalates,
grab the bullhorn again. "I know all your mammas!
And I'm telling!" Trust me, nothing strikes fear into
our collective psyche faster than "I'm telling your
mamma." We're hardwired from childhood to cringe at
its snitch-like sound, to feel a knowing sense of
guilt and impending doom.

Now that your "cute noise" culprits are on the ropes,
it's time to deliver the knockout punch: pelt their
rope-a-doped asses with eggs! Seriously, if you've
never hurled an egg across a considerable distance and
watched the ocher explosion as it collides with your
intended's noggin, you're not living life to the
fullest.

Please note that the items in my "Cute Noise" Survival
Kit are sold separately. Savvy shoppers can get them
all for less that $20.00! So what are you waiting
for? Get yours today!

-VL