Seems I am showing my age. Not visually, as I don't look a day over 25, daaaarlings! Haha. However, the other night after tucking myself up in bed and having drifted off to sleep at a respectable 11pm on a Friday evening - what! Its been a long week!
Anyway, back to me....sleeping away, only to be blasted unceremoniously (I am a very heavy sleeper so it takes quite something to get me awake) out of my beauty preserving slumber by the neighbours teenage childrens' friends having decided right at that moment that revving the crap out of your car was a cool thing to do. I'm sorry, NOT AT 1AM IN THE FRIGGIN' MORNING it isn't!! You know the usual boy teen macho stuff, meat head, motor brain "cooor look at the wheels, mate!", pimp my ride sort of thing. Great. Just great.
However, as teenagers are rather vampirish and sleep till well beyond noon, 1am in the morning would clearly be the equivalent of, oh say you and I's 6-7pm in the evening. A much more respectable time to be showing your mates that you know how to step on the accelerator of your car really hard, repetitively without actually moving said vehicle. Yippee, lets clap, the boy can use the accelerator.
I was mere seconds from dragging myself out of the bed and launching myself out the front door to scream at the nearest car occupant. I would have been a sight with my cleavage revealing nighty, scruffy bedhead, and makeup less. I reckon I could have had them screaming for the hills within seconds. All I can say is they are lucky they stopped and also, if they had continued, lucky also for them that I decided to actually wear any bedroom attire that evening at all. Scary it would have been for them indeed!
I did however take a bleary eyed peek out the front window (the reason for my problem in the first place - Australians appear to deem double glazing not only unnecessary but ridiculously expensive) to notice that the neighbours house had become a regular rave joint. I felt I was suddenly living and looking out onto Hindley street (a Camden High street on a Sat night equivalent) with the cars lined up down the street with little Miss Hotties getting out cars and taxis, then sashaying in their clunge revealing skirts up the path into the house. I was surprised not to see bouncers at the front door.
Now technically I should have been disappointed that I wasn't actually invited to what appears to be the newest Adelaide "it" Saturday night club. However *sings* "what's my age again? what's my age again?", aggravation at lack of sleep got the better of me, I crawled back to bed, a grumpy grumbly old woman and finally fell back to sleep, grumbling further briefly when at 3am they all piled back into cars to their dens before the sun came up.
Indeed "what's my age again?", obvioulsy old enough to know that I prefer sleep to clubbing. Sigh.