I Don't Know Any Of My Neighbors Because I'm Not Mr. Rogers

I'm just throwing this blog together.. no time for editing.  Here it is, if you don't like it, too bad.  I'm documenting real things that happen to me, so if for some reason there is some kind of grammatical error, just go ahead and correct it in your own mind.

So, I went to let my dogs out.  No, they were not on a leash.  I decided to let them out the OLD FASHIONED WAY, I opened the damn back door and let them run loose.  Those were the good old days… when you could let your dogs could run loose without fear of being sued on television by your neighbors. 

*my actual thoughts, blossoming from my cartoon house in a cartoon cloud...*

The neighbors to my left (I’m laying my bed right now – so they are to my left… if I was pulling into my driveway, they’d be on my right).. .those neighbors are awesome.  I’m not only saying it because they read my blog (hey Denise and Shane).. but because they’ve basically put up with my foolishness for almost 6 years and *to my knowledge*, they’ve never called the police. Not even when they may have spotted my son playing with fire and a machete.  Now that I think about it, maybe they completely suck, because they should have called the police.  But, I cannot vouch for their judgement calls.  I should be at their house right now, except for I’m laying in my bed writing this blog about different neighbors. 

 *not actual picture of my son.  My son has black hair and sets things on fire*

So, I let my damn dogs out, and there are these two strangers in my backyard.  They looked annoyed that my dogs are barking at them.  I look annoyed that there are strangers in my backyard.  I walk out there to see what is going on, and they are making plans to re-landscape part of the backyard.  WEIRD. 

So, I say, “Hey, what’s the dealio – strangers?”  Ok, that’s not EXACTLY what I said, but whatever.

They say “This blah blah blah tree is being choked by these vines.. we are planning on saving this tree.” 

Me:  "REALLY?  Who are you?"

Strangers: "We live two doors down.  We originally wanted to buy your lot."

AWKWARK SILENCE.

I size them up.  She is middle aged, possibly from Little House On the Prairie.  Her husband looks like he may have had his ass handed to him a few times back in high school – but he was sportin’ some pretty cool white socks and black tennis shoes.

They continued to identify all my trees and what was wrong and right with my vegetation on my property.  Luckily, I had already had some alcohol in my system, so I was able to tolerate them with some general amusement. 

Then I excused myself and my rounded up my untrained dogs and headed back indoors.  Because I over-analyze everything, so I thought about the strange encounter for about 60 more seconds… and here is my ANALYSIS:  I would  NEVER been able to indentify those people in a line-up if my life depended on it.  If a mobster had a gun to my mother’s head, and told me that I had to identify those neighbors in order to save her life.. I am sorry to report.. my mom would be dead.

What happened to  Mr. Roger’s neighborhood?  I should know these people, right?  Especially if their in my yard looking at my trees.  So, in order to get to know them better, I let my dogs crap in their yard. 

*picture of Mr. Roger's with his actual neighbor - Mr. Gorilla was in Mr. Roger's backyard giving him unwanted advice about his landscaping.*

Won’t you be my neighbor?  Won’t you please? Wont you please?  Won’t you please.. be…. My….. neighbor….

How Salad Dressing Can Ruin Your Life

I  spent the first 18 years of my 43 years of life being blissfully unaware of the "BUY ONE, GET ONE FREE" trickery.  The better part of my childhood I lived in fear that one day I would want a salad, and there would be NO SALAD DRESSING in the pantry.   Now that I'm an adult, I shouldn't have to live in fear anymore.

Apparently, my mother had this same fear, thus leading to the salad dressing hoarding.  *NOTE: I find it important to let my readers know that I have enough material on my mother to blog every day of my life, and I would NEVER run out of material.

If you are a person that has ever been in a grocery store, you know that at ANY grocery store on ANY given day of the year, you can find salad dressing on a "buy one get one free" sale.  I have to keep reminding myself of this.. because I keep hearing this voice saying, "You better stock up, you never know when these salad dressings will be on sale again."    Dear GOD!.. that voice is my mom.  It is NOT the voice of reason.

My mother cleverly disguises her salad dressing hoarding as "finding a good bargain."...  Recently, my sister and I have gone through her panty and found bottles of salad dressing dating back to the late 90's.  We speculated that she was stocking up for Y2K.  My mom would have ruled the world had it ended in 2000 -  as she would have held the world's entire supply of ranch dressing in her panty. 





*Actual Picture of part of my mother's pantry*

As it turns out, I may be incapable to stop myself of this genetic pre-disposition to hoarding.  The unexplainable part is that I KNOW in my mind that I don't need more salad dressing, yet I feel compelled to buy it anyway.  A thousand curses to my genetics.

*Actual picture of the inside of my mother's refridgerator.. with possible expired items circled in blue*

But, alas.. it doesn't end there.  While cleaning out my mom's freezer, my sister and I also found many baggies -  each with bits of Honey-baked Ham inside..meticulously labeled for future use. 

For example:  "Easter 2002".  

HOLY CRAP. I feel like I'm going to start hoarding Honey Baked Ham now.  What is happening to me?  Will it never end?