Neighbors, Neighbors and Neighbors

No, this is not about Jim Nabors. Nor is it about my desire to put on a sweater and slippers and say "Won't you be my neighbor?" Nor is this going to be a dissertation about "Neighbor" by Ugly Kid Joe. (You can see the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OtNW88sgO04) Rather, this is my joyous time with my neighbors. A few neighborly thoughts.

1. Don't use my garbage can. My neighborhood has some dumb rules about garbage cans. I think they cannot be put out before 6pm and they have to be back in within 36 minutes of the garbage man picking them up or 11:32am unless it is the 3rd Friday of the month and a new moon in which case they have to be in by 9:46am. Sometimes my garbage cans make it in by then. Most of the time - not going to happen. If the garbage man comes, and if I know he comes, I might get around to it by 8pm, when I get home from sparring. Maybe 8:30pm.

Now, look, I know it should be empty because the garbage man came. He dumped it. His little arm thing lifted it up and turned it upside down so that all of the contents were bend over and the contents of your stomach come out into the toilet. After this event, this very important event in life, the inside is empty. The garbage can should have nothing in it. So, how come I come home and I have stuff in my garbage can?

I don't know which of my neighbors feels like my garbage can is theirs, but it is not theirs. Its mine. I claim it. I own it. I pay some ridiculous amount of money every month for the right to fill it up. Stop using it. It is not yours! Stop using it. Give me back my garbage can. I want to use it - all of it. I want to fill up my garbage can! STOP!

2. I live in a development where we have big garages. I have a three car. Some homes have a 4 car garage. 4 car garage? Really? Who owns 4 cars? Jay Leno? Tiger Woods? You know, his Escalade, and his 9 girlfriends each have one. Plus the wife, who will probably get a new car every month for the rest of her life with the alimony he is going to be paying her. So, in addition to having 3 or 4 cars that they can park in their garage, they have a driveway. That is a minimum of 2 more cars, but up to 4 more cars, if they have a long driveway. So, figure these folks have enough space on their property to keep between 5 and 9 cars. That should be enough space for 99% of Americans, right? I mean, the British would be able to fit in 15 to 27 cars per house with this much space, but even old men who drive Cadillacs and pimps with their 1970 blue Lincoln Town Car, lowered, and covered in velour would be able to fit in 3 or 4 cars.

But, apparently, in my neighborhood, this is not enough room. Every day I find a car parked right in front of my house. Not like once a week. Or even every other day. Every freaking day someone parks in front of my house. Now, I get that I don't own that space, but could you please let my friend park there. That's right - I said friend. That is the one guy who would actually come to my house. He would like to park his car in front of my house so he doesn't have to walk 6 miles to get to my house because you have the entire street blocked by your POC cars. No, I won't link to Adam Sandler's Piece of S*** car song again - you can go look it up this time. But, dude driving the Miata that is two colors and has a hard top, you know who you are!

How about this? Lets park our cars in our garage. When the garage is full, put a car or two on the driveway. Then, when the driveway is full, put a car or two in front of your house. And seriously, if you have more cars than that on a daily basis, you need to move. I hear Far, Far Away is a nice place. You and Shrek can go live there.

3. Don't offer me pot. Ever. No pot. No marijuana. No hash. No Mary Jane. No budda. No gang. No chronic. No grass. No sticky icky. No hooba. No wacky tobacky. No fatty boombalaty. No reefer. No blunt. No dope. No 420.

Yes, one of my neighbors offered me pot. Not just any pot, but the "good stuff." Dude apparently was so happy that I found his brother's dog, who was in my garage, that he and his buddies offered me a doobie. They had the good stuff to offer me. He didn't know if I smoke it. Um, bra, as he would be called, I am over 22. I think most folks over 22 don't smoke the weed. Imagine me smoking dope. Come on, you know me. You know how I would be "So, um, Ms. Debt Collector witch, I don't think you could, um, what was I saying.....you were um........wait, what? Who are you?" Go read my Michael Phelps rant. You know that would so be me. And that would just be the contact high. Imagine if I actually smoked it. I would be eating cookies and drinking root beer until cows were flying - which I would probably see if I smoked a joint. Heck, I barely drink, and this guy wanted to offer me a smoke!

Pretty much, you never have to offer me some pot. I assure you, I won't smoke it, and I especially won't smoke it with my neighbors. Trust me on this, dude. You don't have to offer it to me. You can keep "the good stuff" all for yourself!