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There are workmen outside my house jackhammering up the road and it's 7:30am on asaturday.
I am not amused.
workmen? on a saturday? are you sure?
have you tried politely explaining that if they do not cease forthwith all noise making actions, they will find themselves wearing their jackhammer internally?
Hmm no...Something tells me its similar to smacking noisy kids in the head, which, have now all woken up from yesterdays sugar-induced coma and have started being little shits again.
Sheesh... that sucks!
It's happened to me before, so I know how crappy that is. Somehow the accepted hours of 8.30 am - 10pm (I think) are never followed
When my neighbour was extending his house, then then his garage, and then doing up his backyard, and then digging a pool, he'd start at 6.30am. Just cos he wakes up at 4am, he expects the world to run on his time.
This was an issue for a good few years.
I believe the window of allowable construction work related noise around here is 7am till 6pm but that might be different on Saturdays.
Well I thought it was at least 8am, but someone in the know told me 830.. on a saturday at least!! (may be earlier on weekdays)
Maybe they just don't observe daylight savings time... that would explain the hour-early start 
hahahahaha
But yeah, it's slightly crazy, the hours they allow... These laws were obviously set in the days there wasn't any electricity...
i've always thought it was ridiculous...............the hours that they allow workmen to start working in residential areas.
Fo sho...
This is going to be a decent monologue but this thread reminds me of a time a few years ago, back in the free days, I lived with a mate ... we shall name Raphello. We lived next door to an old bloke ... we shall name Old Man Frank. Old Man Frank would arise on a Saturday at sparrow fart and proceed to fire up every single backyard device known to man in order to blow a few leaves about the place, clean the outside of his house and mow the lawn among other things. Matters worse ... most of his devices including the line trimmer I suspect were V8 powered. Not to worry though. We never complained. He was entitled to do whatever the fuck he pleased and who were we to say otherwise. In any case, whatever we did the night previous meant we could almost sleep through anything. Usually was around 10:30am when we would arise for the hair of the dog and a ciggy. Raphello had one of those boom box things with knobs and levers all over it though I thought the biggest knob was him. For all its bells and whistles, the only sound it could emulate, to my highly trained ear, was generally that which would often be heard blurting from the sound system of a sports car sitting at a red light with the windows down and a similarly inclined knob in the drivers seat. I hated it but as long as he was happy ... I had a knock off Telecaster with 100 watts of Marshall Quad fury shoved up its arse. It was not the best axe I've ever owned but definately the best rig. Add on some nasty Boss pedals ... phaser, hyperfuzz and overdrive made plenty of noise to name a few. We would fire up the sum of our equipment at around 11am, a reasonable hour or so we thought, and create what others may interpret as fairly hideous noises but we always believed we were going OK. About two weeks into it and we got a letter of complaint from the property agent. That was duly ignored. Another two weeks go by and Old Man Frank suddenly appeared at the back door looking somewhat agitated. Interupted us right in the middle of one of our best efforts too. This intrusion put us well and truely on the back foot and the musical genious that was "The Bogangar Dip" might have peaked at that point. Anyway, that was the beginning of, to our minds, a wonderful neighbourly relationship. For Old Man Frank, the torturous experiment of "how far can we go till he cracks up" simultaneously began, with Frank as the unwilling participant. We played it fair ... he was invited to every single gathering that took place thereafter. Our other flatmate was a Colombian student ... we shall name her Mary. For the record, she had never been offered drugs till she moved to Australia. For that we are proud. The place we lived in had a spa in the back deck. She would bring her friends home and put this device to good use. A few times we caught Old Man Frank having a butchers hook out his side window. Who could blame him though, some of Mary's friends were not just South American stunners, they were absolute rockets. Strangely Old Man Frank would decline the offers to join us for a few Coronas in the spa. In hindsight though, setting off his burglar alarm every time we came home from the pub might have been going a little too far but shit it was funny at the time.
HAHAHA
oh dear...
ruski.....you are an amazing storyteller...
ROFL!!
I second that bluegirl!!
Was completely mesmerised and left me wanting more, sign of a good story teller.
This is Tangler gold!
LOL. Pleased you got value out of it. That occured in 2000. They were good times.
That wasn't all that long ago... I thought this happened in your younger days!
You're naughty
I was a mere 27. Compared to now that is very young.
almost 9 years ago, dek.....
*brain explodes*
I'm so bad with time.... things like 'it was 9 years ago' don't register in my head until people point it out to me...
Thanks bluegirl
I spent seven years thinking "2000, that was last year, right?" - that is, I felt that 2000 was a recent year, not that I thought the current year was 2001.
Exactly how it happens in my head too
For example 1987, yes, that feels like ages ago...
2000 and up, feels like just last year
me too.......that 's why i got it .
In 2000 I was a dashing 40 year old. In 2009 I'll be an equally dashing 50. Growing older has a certain appeal to me, mainly because I don't really like the idea of the alternative.
The alternative... ummm... regressing into the fetal stage?
dek......you are kidding.....right?
Kidding about what? Growing young?
The alternative was death 
Growing older has a certain appeal to me
such as the older you are the grumpier you can be and still get away with it?
SK - death is the cumulation of growing old... could the alternative possibly staying young?
hehehe
Alternatively, death is the point at which you stop growing old and start growing mould 
HAHAHAHAAHAHAH
Love it!
@Sir M. I like that analagy. Being grumpy is one of the rare pleasures in what I call "my life". Bloody hell, if you can't have a good moan about things that are outside of your control then I think I'd take the alternative. Not that I'd give anyone the satisfaction of have me top myself...
of course, there's the Benjamin Button course of action...
Great... another Pitt movie.
