Adventures in new neighbors 

As regular readers, aka myself, know, I am currently living with my parents in the same house I was born and raised in. 

Now that I’m back as a 29 year old lady, things have changed; including our beloved neighbors that I remember growing up. (I wrote a column in our paper about said neighbors.) Now, as a community member, I feel it’s important to connect with my new neighbors that surround me. It’s important in our local culture to reach out and connect with your close community. Safety and good communication in numbers. It works. 

BE THAT AS IT MAY, I’m finding it incredibly difficult to connect to these neighbors when they are complete and utter charicatures that my comedic mind cannot pass up for a good laugh. 

Take for example, this Chevy-Chase-circa-Vacation-esque neighbor:

Just nonchalantly meandering about his (very) visible back yard with his miniature poodle makin’ plops while he admires his new beauty of a golf-cart (which I’m sure he uses to cart around town as if this place is his own golf resort?)

How am I supposed to go up and try to be a friendly neighbor when he’s in a bathrobe?! Like that’s not awkward or anything! And I’m not saying I would approach him while he’s IN his bathrobe, Gah! No! I’m saying, like, the next time I see him in regular attire? THIS is all I will ever see. Chevy friggin Chase bathrobe neighbor guy. 

Great first impression, pal! 

And don’t forget my other neighbor. He has the satanic truck from hell. It’s the only thing in the world that can wake me up from a deep sleep. And comparatively between his garage and our house, there’s literally only about two feet between us. It’s horrible. Oh, and this guy also likes to blare loud music like some mid-life crisis hooligan who wants to show the man he can bite him in the butt because Metallica rocks and cigarettes are cool and bald eagles and ‘Merica! If this dude was an action figure, he’d come with his rotting pumpkin from Halloween that is STILL on his front stoop, a Slayer t-shirt collection, and a case of Miller Genuine Draft. (For those of you who enjoy MGD, heavy metal, and all things patriotic, I’m totally not judging, merely observing.  I swear.) Comes with bonus carton of cigarettes. Fun for the whole family! 

It’s just hard for me to make that leap into “Ned Flanders” mode when this is what God is throwin’ me. Thanks, God. Thanks, Obama. (But for real, thanks for giving me a challenge.) 



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