Do Shut Up

I'll be honest here. (This is not new...) I don't like most of my neighbors. And my feelings are not without merit. I have given it a good go....waved, tried speaking to, smiling, what have you. But today has to be up there with the most bizarre we have experienced since living here.

Wes wanted to ride his big wheel. Awesome. We go outside. I sit on the curb and he pedals down the street and skids past me just close enough to make me curl my toes up inside my shoes. Promises he won't actually hit me. (Riiiight.)

Neighbor kid rides up the street. Fine.
Here comes his dad, beer in hand. Crap.

Now, there are a plethora of reasons why I can't stand this guy. He's taken it upon himself to be the neighborhood watchdog....which is fine, except that he gets into screaming matches with people on a regular basis. (And today is no exception.) He actually called the police on another neighbor's guest last week....because their radio was too loud. I'd like to tell him that by doing this, he's painting a target on his back that just gets brighter with every spit-filled altercation he instigates. But he's such an idiot that I would truly be wasting my breath.

Below are the most memorable moments of our conversation. And when I say "conversation" please understand that it was almost completely one-sided. I did very little talking. He proceeded to plant his ass on my curb and spew his ignorant, bigoted, racist, and just altogether stupid views.

"How old is your kid?...He's not in sports?...Well, I mean, it's your life and your life decisions..."

(Damn right it is. And I've seen your kid throw a football. You might encourage him in the academic areas.)

"I was tellin' your old man...."

(Actually, he's my husband. And he's not old. And please don't talk to him.)

"My niece was supposed to come over today. She's in the Air Force...just got back from Afghanistan. Shot up some bad guys. She's Marine Corps."

(Okay, which is it? You do know they're different, RIGHT???)

At some point he walks back down to his house on the end of the street and I assume plugs his mouth with more tobacco that he may spit onto my driveway, which is always attractive. I see him start yelling at someone and he rounds the corner, still yelling. He comes back down to my house (Oh, thank you. Because I so wanted you to.) to tell me that he just "jumped on these 12 year olds' asses for walkin' by my house sayin' mother-f'er this and mother-f'er that." (Because THAT taught them. And I really hope your house gets egged.)

"You know me..." (Not really. And I don't want to either.) "I just can't let that go in front of my son." (Um, please note that your son was half a block up the street in front of my house and had no clue that anything was going on until you started yelling profanities back at children. Way to go, Dad. Way to go.)

At this point I tell him that I really prefer just to mind my own business, hoping he'll quit talking and leave.... Nope. Clueless.

Another neighbor drives up to a house between ours. "This guy's been known to knock a few back." (Nooooooooo! Please note the constant presence of beer in your own hand, sir. And has anyone ever told you that by looking directly at someone and shielding your mouth while talking to someone else, the first someone probably has a pretty good idea that YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT THEM? Oh, and you whisper about as quietly as a 3 year old.) "He's crazy...You know those Puerto Ricans."

I cannot believe I actually managed to speak: "Excuse me?????"

He back pedals. "Not that that has anything to do with anything."
Me: "No...it doesn't." (I'm fairly certain that fire is coming out of my ears by now.)

If only there were Immodium for verbal diarrhea. The man just does not stop talking....

"His pit got out one day. I went in and got my gun..." (Oh, YAY!) "...pointed it right at the dog and said 'You got two choices. You can go on back and live, or you can stay here and die.' Dog yelped and ran right back in the house." (WTF??????? Note to self: Never go out of house again.)

And yet he goes on....I wish I could remember everything but I was so heavily concentrated on not kicking him in the head (I actually had to take a few steps back to insure this would not happen) that I couldn't make mental notes of everything he was saying.

He spoke again of how his son has been friends with the same group of boys since they were in daycare right after birth. (I had to hear this same story last week). And then came the kicker:

"They been runnin' around together since they were suckin' nipples."

(PLEASE try to envision the look on my face here. It had to have been priceless.)

Me: "WES!!!! WE NEED TO GO TO TARGET!!! NOWWWWWWW!!!!!"



Please don't piss me off. I might write about you. And that's not necessarily a good thing.