My memorable neighbor Charlie

When I saw the prompt a memorable neighbor from Mama Kat this week I just couldn't resist.

Charlie Sheen is my memorable neighbor.

Now, I'll be honest. We don't live next door to him or even a few doors away. We're not fancy like that. Not that he's fancy, but you know what I mean. However, we do live sort of close to him. We live in a canyon and he lives above us, where other silly Hollywood celebrities reside, on Mulholland Drive.

Here's a picture taken from my canyon.

Do you see where the green meets the sky? That's Mulholland Drive where Charlie(this is LA people, no need for last names) does his thing. And before you go getting ideas that we live in one of those weird houses on the left, we don't.

Charlie has caused me to lose sleep twice in the last year so even though he's not our next door, or our few-doors-down-neighbor, I feel justified saying I'm his neighbor.

No, I didn't lose sleep because I'm obsessed with him and was worried about his erratic behavior. I don't watch his sitcom, or even know what it's about.

I lost sleep because when he drove his car over Mulholland Drive in a drunken stupor and then called the car in as stolen, every network in town had a helicopter over his house which meant every network in town had a helicopter over our house.

And it was three o'clock in the morning.

Here's the thing about canyons. They carry sound. So when coyotes have a party up the canyon it sounds like they're having a party in our backyard. When the people in Warren Beatty's old house on Mulholland have a party, it sounds like my next door neighbors are having a party.

So all those helicopters were LOUD. Really loud. Shutting our 1940s cottage windows did nothing to help keep out the noise.

And the spotlights? Let's just say it's a good thing I've got kids and wear decent pajamas, because our bedroom was lit up like it was a movie set.

Tim gave up on sleep at five o'clock, got out of bed, went downstairs, turned on the TV and then came back up to report it was Charlie before heading out for a morning workout. When I got up at six-thirty there was just one helicopter left.

Charlie repeated the exact same scenario all over again only four months later. The nerve.

Charlie is so manic he doesn't realize us regular people slumming it down in the canyons aren't graced with tiger blood and need sleep. Lots of sleep.

We're getting ready to move. So Charlie, soon I'll be free. Free at last. Of you.