- Unless you are giving me a check from Publishers Clearing House
It seems most people enjoy having neighbors. I know of people who stay in touch with neighbors even after they have moved out-of-state. This just puzzles me. I go out of my way to avoid my neighbors. The less they know about me the better.
I have lived in this neighborhood for five years now and the only neighbor that I know at least by first name is the paramedic across the street. The only reason I know her name is because her dog Zoe loves to come and hump me when she sees me in the front yard. You don’t have much choice but to act neighborly when someone is trying to remove their animal from your leg. Besides, I might need her assistance one of these days after a wild moment with my Thigh Master. Suzanne Somers really should have put warning labels on those things.
Some neighbors give you no choice but to get to know them. Even if it isn’t face to face.
I opened my garage door and was heading to move the trash bin down to the curb. I hear a man talking and he was speaking so loudly, I had no choice but to hear what was going on.
Bald Drew Carey neighbor: “You did too send me photos of your tits! Don’t deny it!”
*Ok, I might have paused at this point and just stood to listen to the man sitting in a lawn chair on his driveway having this conversation with the mystery tramp*
Then I realized bald Drew had this woman on speaker phone.
Sextress: “Oh my God! I never sent you pictures of my tits. Prove it!”
Baldy: *now smoking a cig* “Well, of course I deleted the pictures off my phone. What if I died or something and my wife found those pictures?”
Now when I drive by his house and see him standing in the driveway chatting on his cell phone, I contemplate for a moment losing control of my car and running him over. But I soon come to my senses and remember that prisons don’t allow Papa John’s deliveries or the use of memory foam mattresses. That is not the life for me.
I just pray I am never involved in any sort of incident that involves the police interviewing my neighbors.
Neighbor #1: “You mean someone actually lived there? I thought the house had been abandoned.”
Neighbor #2: “No, I didn’t know her name. But have you talked to Keegan?”
“Who is Keegan?” the policeman will ask.
“Oh the dude that delivers Papa Johns to her house…I bet he will know her name.”
Neighbor #3: “No, I never met her but she ordered the hell out of Schwan’s ice cream and the UPS dude dropped packages on her porch almost daily. I think she might have had a porn addiction.”
Hmmmm…maybe it might be time to get to know my neighbors just a little bit. If for no other reason than to not have my poor family shocked by my alleged porn addiction.