Wherein I describe why my new neighbors are lame

Disclaimer: even though I have never met them, and have no basis whatsoever upon which to judge them except a few brief exchanges and dire first impressions, I nevertheless render harsh judgment.

The Setting: new 3-unit condo building built on an empty lot next to our building. The building was thrown up by the 3 Stooges of construction: Danny, a weasely short guy with curly hair and a thick Chicago accent; Rick, a Chicago cop who apparently is making a little on the side; and the third guy, who didn't say much. We got to know Danny when he was first starting out on this ambitious project, and we had just poured a gigantic concrete slab for our garage---he came over and pounded on our door.

Hello?

Hey, uh, I think that they went over the property line with the concrete.

Well, we had a survey done when we bought the place, and according to that, it's right on the line. You had a survey, right? What does it say?

Moment of uncomfortable silence.

Uh, yeah, I guess we should look into that. Okay, see ya later...

So these three gents got their luxury spreads finished recently--we were a little unsure of the resale value after hearing Danny, who was hauling up some bags of grout, shout up to the third floor, "Yo, you need another bag of purple?" But they did indeed at last sell, and neighbor #3 moved in this week.

So now they've sold this magnificent structure to three hapless tenants, none of whom have the vantage point on their roofing job that we do, so are unconcerned that they will one day soon spring a leak.

Anyway, three new neighbors, three big disappointments. Here are their stories:

Neighbor #1, Top Floor:
A 20-something with shaggy hair and a bunch of friends who drop by a lot, and seem to have a key. Occasionally have the girls over to drink lite beer out of 40's on the back porch. As our window looks into this dude's kitchen, we see ample use of the microwave, a frige with significant beer storage, and a George Forman grill. This appears to be the extent of his culinary explorations.

Neighbor #2, Second Floor
Single lady with two kids who avoids eye contact whenever possible.

Neighbor #3, Bottom Floor
This guy just moved in last week, so I've only got two tidbits on him. Blond highlights. And a buddy who shows up in front, both night and day, and bellows "yo, Alllexxx". Yo dude, doorbell.

So we'll see, perhaps we'll be all Melrose Place by this time next year, and will be laughing about all these silly first impressions. We'll see.