With the coming of spring, genus douchebaggus teenus emerges. Driven by their fierce, hormonally-addled instincts, they seek to attract the female of the species in courtship display. Prime among their tools (heh) is the playing of loud music as they drive endlessly around the local blocks, windows open and bass rattling sternums for miles around.
(One of the only upsides I can see to ridiculous gas prices is the fact that maybe some of these assholes won't be able to cruise around all summer.)
This afternoon, I was sitting out on the front porch, watching a thunderstorm roll in and generally communing with nature as the kids played with sidewalk chalk. I passed a few words with a neighbor across the street, and then, roaring down the block, came a carload of bepimpled idiots, blasting Lil' Wayne's "Pop That Pussy" at a volume best described as "planet-shatter."
As they made their second strafing round the block, I ran down to the sidewalk and started gyrating wildly. Ms. Reuben-Jeanne, my neighbor, immediately saw what was up, and did the same on her front walk.
Imagine: two very white, very middle-aged, slightly reubenesque moms shaking their asses, Shakira-style. We enthusiastically worked our mojo. It was when RJ (who is technically classified as a small planetoid) got down to the deep squat-pelvic-thrusts that the carload screeched to a halt and the boys, utter horror upon their faces, exclaimed:
Horrified teen: "Yo! What the fuck, man? Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you two?"
Me: "Dude, if you didn't want us to dance, you wouldn't have had your music up so high!"
RJ: "That's right, baybee! I hears that hot stuff and I gots to shake mah booty!" (With an extra jiggle and an ass-slap for emphasis.)
*silence, broken only by whimpering*
"Ma'am, would you like us to turn our music down a little bit?"
"Well, actually, a lot. Some of those lyrics are a bit much for children. Plus, you're going to go deaf."
"We'll keep it down."
"Thanks. Though the dancing is a Hell of a good workout."