Oh no...they're still here alright

The Loud family, that is.

When we last left our annoying neighbors they'd been warned by our landlord company, the Wobau, to keep things quiet. Since that time:

~ The boyfriend of one of the daughters approached my MIL on the street and told her to stop picking on the Louds "or else". My question is "Or else what?". She told him that it was none of his business and to bug off.

~ My MIL ran into Frau Loud in the lobby while Frau Loud was talking with the man who lives above the Louds (he was telling Frau Loud that he used to play the TV too loud too and people had complained and he got hearing aids and he no longer has the problem) and immediately Frau Loud started in with my MIL. My MIL then told her that her daughter had acosted her on the street and was a smart ass bitch to her and Frau Loud called my MIL a liar. Undaunted, my MIL told her that she should try giving her husband a laxative because when he goes to take a crap you can hear him all over the building screaming and grunting. Nice to hear when you have guests over for tea. Frau Loud told my MIL that she'd get a note from his doctor that said that a laxative wouldn't help him. What-the-fuck-ever.

The "pain" screaming he does that sounds like wolf howling and the grunting while sitting on the toilet I can tolerate. I don't like it but I can tolerate it. But the loud TV and radio is a point I am not going to back down from. And here's the thing - they can go for days with the TV and radio being quiet. I can still hear it but it's not disturbing me. And then I guess he gets a wild hair across his ass because one day he'll play the TV so loud you think he's gone deaf and is trying to hear by getting the vibrations through his bones. Now if he can listen to the TV and radio at normal levels one day, why can't he the next? I'll tell you why. Because the shitheel doesn't give a damn about living among others and does what he wants when there's no one around to stop him.

Today while walking Bonnie I saw them both on the street. She was pushing him along and he was picking his nose. I mean that literally. Bastard was two knuckles deep. I think he's obsessed with his nose. He blows it constantly - as loud as a foghorn, of course - and the last time I saw him outdoors he was by himself parked dead in the middle of the sidewalk digging for gold. Good grief - little boys don't pick their nose in public as much as this man does!

I was dying to yell across the street when I saw him digging deep "...und schmeckt?" (How does it taste?) but they don't know who I am. With all this conflict they don't actually know what I look like because neither of them have bothered to speak to me personally about anything and I'd prefer to keep it that way.

Tonight for over an hour I had to listen to them blare a Volksmusik show. It's going on the list - the list that's now over a page and a half long with infractions since the last time I went to the Wobau. And I'm not picking on every time I hear them. I only list when the TV or radio is so loud that I can't hold a conversation or I can't hear my own TV.

You know I hate a damn booger picker.