So that's what that was called...

I've learned a word (thank you Jezebel!) to describe my complete obsessive disorders related to my neighbors. It's called a hate crush. I wouldn't say I go so far as to "hate" my neighbors but at times the venom I spit out probably seems like that to others.

I do know the one neighbor plays tennis (as in carries multiple rackets and has a tennis bag backpack thing). He also reads the NYTimes on Sunday and drives a big truck, which he'd like to trade in for a Prius. He's recently updated his bumper sticker collection (vary sparse) with a school's mascot (not my school). He's pursuing an MBA at said school.

I suspect one of the other neighbors might either a) travel a lot for her job or b) be a high-class escort. Mainly due to the traveling and BMW she drives. I suppose her parents could be monied or she could have a boyfriend she spends a few nights a week with, but I've really latched on to the high-class escort theory. I like her a lot more lately, because we bonded over the horrid workers our landlord hires.

And the other couple. The couple. Who take up 2 parking spots in our small lot when each unit should really only get 1 spot. (I say this because I'd like to have a spot open at all times for my visitors - not theirs. I should win. I've been there longer.) And the stupid girl portion of the couple tries to steal my parking spot occasionally. It's not bad enough that they take two, but she's got to sneak in and steal mine when I'm gone for a few days? As if. My spot is MINE. It's right outside my apartment door and did I mention I've lived there longer than anyone else? I WIN.

There's also an inordinate amount of peeking out the window to see what the goings-on are out there in neighborland. Of course all of this is complete cheese compared to my hate crush on the previous neighbor (before the tennis playing boy above). I only realized the last day he was there - his move out day - that he only had one arm. The entire two years he'd been there I'd observed his sexual habits (suspected gayness more out of shirtlessness frolicking with other shirtless boys than actual boy kissing or anything), his sporting habits (crew, which come to think of it is slightly impressive given the whole one arm thing), his obnoxious friends (they were the worst parking infringers), and his suspected trashcan moving tactics (don't ask). I also fell over the stone fence thing behind his apartment once when I was trying to look for something. It hurt a lot.

Long way of saying that Jezebel rocks. They have given me a new label for my neuroses and I'm incredibly grateful for it.