Witness
October 1st, 2006
My neighbors are weird. I’m friendly enough with a lot of them, I suppose, given that I circle the blocks over and over again screaming things like, “Poop! POOP! Go poop!” It’s a little hard to stay anonymous when you’re toting around a snarfing, hoovering dog who’s pooping things like earplugs and cigarette butts and chomping on frogs and dead lizards, but that’s really not the point.
I live in a gated community in a snooty-type town. Incidentally, the Snootypants Factor is one of a frillion reasons why we struggle here, and yet another thing we failed to fully play out in our minds before we got here. We are decidedly un-snooty, if it isn’t obvious, and teenagers should not drive their own Escalades, is all I’m saying. And yet, travel two blocks outside the area, and people like Junior ain’t got no ear!.
Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the day, my particular gated community has absolutely none of the snootfactor, and all of the…well, God, sometimes, it’s like every other neighborhood I guess, with drug deals and rednecks and out of control teenagers who break into common areas and steal televisions (three are missing from the gym, and they were taken by a resident. Awesome.) Of course there’s Organ Lady, and I’ve certainly mentioned Mulch Lady, and Domestic Violence Lady, and there is, of course Nice Midwestern Lady, whose version of “getting tough” with the Vicodin dealers (He’s a young veteran, and has been selling his prescription refills to teenagers) who live across the street from her is yelling, “WE JUST SAY NO IN THIS NEIGHBORHOOD!” every time they leave the house.
Anyway, I had too much to drink on Friday night. Too many liters (liters of wine. LITERS.), and it wasn’t on purpose (it never is). I feel compelled to point out that all of this drinking was taking place while I was playing the new-fangled Monopoly “Here & Now” version, and if that doesn’t illustrate the kind of rock n’ roll lifestyle we live, I don’t know what does.
So, Friday night, in my drunken haze, I decided to come home after a walk with the dog and take copious notes of my interaction with my neighbor – the one who, by the way, is fresh from a divorce and living a fratboy-type existence at the age of 39, complete with a Mustang. Every night he scares me by jumping out from behind his truck, which is always mysteriously full of watermelons, and screeches “PUPP-AY!” I can always smell the acrid beer on his breath, and there is always a six-pack of Bud Light within reach.
Near as I can tell from my notes (Notes. I made notes of this. Who does that?*), I walked in on a party of sorts, with my neighbor (who is dating our other neighbor, a single mom with two little girls), making out with what I think was a teenager I recognized from the neighborhood inside the damn car in the driveway. Meanwhile, another one of our (married, with children) neighbors was making out with a 22-year-old OTHER neighbor on a folding chair, and well, it just got VERY VERY AWKWARD when I showed up walking my cockeyed dog, and can I just add that throughout this whole situation, the car was blasting Bon Jovi’s “Bad Medicine” on the stereo system and they were bobbing their kissing heads to the music? And that I was veryvery drunk as I watched this all go down, so I probably stood there open-mouthed for far too long?
I just stood there awkwardly, while the Philandering Men (who are having this sort of drunken make out fest in the driveway – THE DRIVEWAY – of the fratboy’s girlfriend) proceed to act very, very cheery towards me, I guess to try to defuse the situation, by yelling things like “DOG!” and “DOG’S MOM!” because they have no idea what my name is, and I just wanted to die, that much I remember.
It finally ended when Mustangman awkwardly asked if my dog had to poop and then announced:
“BECAUSE I SURE HAVE TO POOP RIGHT NOW! AND WHO DOESN’T?”
Then he ran away into his girlfriend’s house.
I haven’t seen either of them since. And it’s just…well, it’s just so fucking weird.
*For the record, I do this all the time. Not the drunken part, but the notes part. Writing a book has rendered me a fool for the Moleskine, and I document anything and everything out of the ordinary, and some of the ordinary. It’s an embarrassing habit.
**Sarah McLachlan
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
15 Comments Add your own
1. -R- | October 1st, 2006 at 9:06 pm
OMG. Middle-aged neighbors making out with a teenager and near-teenager to Bon Jovi outside. OMG. Plus domestic violence lady. And the organ seller. And apparently some vicodin sellers. I either really need to come visit you to experience this for myself or I need to stay the hell away from there. I am scared and yet laughing out loud.
2. TwoBusy | October 2nd, 2006 at 5:52 am
Wow. It’s just like “My Name Is Earl,” except it’s your life.
3. Claire | October 2nd, 2006 at 6:11 am
where is adam during all of this? he should have pulled you down on their front lawn to join in the party. you two would have blended right in and been part of the neighborhood. can’t beat em, join em, i say.
well, no not really.
this whole post is a big WTF in my book. i have to say that i think it’s hysterical that you had to stop and stare at the car crash rather then just glancing at it sidelong and running away. you are a strong, strong woman, and there is nothing wrong with a couple of liters (do they sell it by the liter?) of wine on a friday night – don’t let anyone tell you different.
4. Lawyerish | October 2nd, 2006 at 6:37 am
Wow. I…I got nothin’. Wherever you move after this is going to seem rather staid by comparison.
5. jonniker | October 2nd, 2006 at 6:53 am
R: It’s so bizarre. I mean, I haven’t even touched half of the other neighbors, who are equally insane, honestly.
TB: Great. Yes, I suppose it’s a little like that. Sigh.
Claire: OH! Best part: Rodney did start asking, “WHERE IS ADAM? He should be PARTYING with us, man!” (they know his name, not mine). And, well, no, just no. He shouldn’t. He was at home, and I was walking her at about midnight, per usual (it’s uh, relatively safe, and not far.) Liters of wine can be found at Costco, of course.
Ish: I know. I just…I know.
6. Heather B. | October 2nd, 2006 at 6:54 am
Wow, the same used to happen to me in my snooty apartment building where college students drove their own Benzes. Not the dog walking while drunk part, but the frat boy lifestyle and people making out with other neighbors out in the open and/or parking lot and sometimes they like to take their little show on the road to a Frat Party or the main Quad at school.
I would drink liters of beer though and watch the action.
7. Jamie | October 2nd, 2006 at 8:32 am
Oh, Moleskine, how I love thee.
8. Suebob | October 2nd, 2006 at 8:59 am
I don’t know what to say. I live in a poor neighborhood with an honest to god Hell’s Angels clubhouse less than 5 blocks away. Yet it seems rather more tame than yours.
9. Yez | October 2nd, 2006 at 9:45 am
Wow. I haven’t seen neighbors like that since the heroin-addict “working girl” who lived across the hall from us on Blackwood Street in Boston. (I knew her because she used to invite us in to roller skate. On her hardwood floors.)
10. Jen W. | October 2nd, 2006 at 10:14 am
Dude. Wow. I….wow.
11. GG | October 2nd, 2006 at 12:28 pm
Oh my god. I think I’m speechless.
12. amyjami | October 2nd, 2006 at 12:28 pm
HFS. that’s utterly insane.
““BECAUSE I SURE HAVE TO POOP RIGHT NOW! AND WHO DOESN’T?””
excellent cover-up here by bullitt rodney. way to FULLY DIFFUSE a completely awkward situation….LMAO!
13. Beth | October 2nd, 2006 at 1:05 pm
Yikes! And, um, *why* do you live there?? Seems you belong with much saner types, intelligently discussing elevated topics over mixed drinks. Any chance of moving?
14. JayAre | October 2nd, 2006 at 6:50 pm
You would think that I would have learned by now:
1) Not to read your blog in public.
2) Have a tissue on hand to stop laughter tears.
But no. Once again I have made an idiot out of myself.
Also, I do the notebook thing, too. I am a nerd of the highest order. However, I can never remember what I was referencing in the notebook when I go back and look at it. Which I think makes me a dumb nerd.
15. Daily Tragedies | October 2nd, 2006 at 8:20 pm
Wow. This post was so good, I had to stop reading in the middle, go pop some popcorn, and then come back for the exciting conclusion. And exciting it was! Way better than Flavor of Love and, dude, if you haven’t been watching it, I BEG OF YOU, tune into VH1 next weekend and watch the finale. Even better, try to see the last 2 or 3 episodes. Priceless…in a trainwreck/make-out session in the neighbor’s driveway sort of way.
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