These Are The People In My Neighborhood

Everyone says their neighbors are insane…well so are mine. Each one of them a whack-job, and G-d only knows what they have to say about me. At the very least I’m the inappropriate exhibitionist who walks her kids to carpool in her underwear every morning, pulling down her t-shirt hoping to cover the cheeks protruding from her On Gossamer thong.

As you are probably aware, I live in Florida. You know, palm trees, severe humidity, hurricanes, prehistoric insects, the whole bit. Bearing this in mind, one of my supremely crazy neighbors is cultivating a pretty intricate desert-esque cactus farm, each one jury rigged to the other with a series of ropes, boating lines, and phone wires. Like a house of cards, or some other profound metaphor, even a slight gust (which as everyone knows never happens in Florida) would disrupt this fabulous display of “anti-tropics”. Last summer he planted a single leaf and then proceeded to encircle it with 8 stakes and do not cross tape attached. My neighbors and I eagerly waited to see what this leaf would become. He watered it, patted it, talked to it, got it high, and now it is a small bush. Fascinating, I know.

Today I drove by and found that he is digging a hole to China on the actual town property beyond his sidewalk. I’m told it’s called a swale, but don’t hold me to it. For the past couple days there has been police tape between a tree and a chair tilted back ever so carefully on a 37degree angle (I used a protractor), next to a kitchen trashcan with 3 long reflectors sticking out of it. I thought it was out for bulk trash pick-up, but now it appears he has “McGuivered” some kind of pulley system and is digging a trench around it. I am not sure if he as at war with the people across the street, but I feel maybe I should warn them as I think he may start shooting his cacti out of a cannon.

The man two doors down from me is running a crack den that offers a free car detail with every rock sold. I am sure of this as he has maybe 8 kids all of different descent, clearly the product of his crack ho disciples. There is a slew of hopped up Bentleys, Benz’s, and Hummers getting detailed outside of his house on the weekends. I was going to turn him into the association for running this drug ring, but I really liked the job his detail guys were doing and decided to hire them instead.

My next door neighbor is straight out of “Arlington Road”, you know the movie where the neighbors were terrorists and set up Jeff Bridges to look like the unabomber. First of all they spend a fortune every year on a 4th of July fireworks display that would make the Grucci family jealous. This extravagant celebration of our countries independence is very shady, as they are British. They are also anti-Semitic. I know this because they fought with me about our property lines. Oh, and also because they had a 4ft replica of a WWII German plane with a huge Swastika on it, which they fixed in the driveway of our predominantly Jewish neighborhood for like 3 weeks. I don’t talk to them much.

Two doors to the other side I have a woman who asked my carpool and the 5 other elementary school carpools on our street not honk in the morning as it wakes her middle school children. I said that might be a problem and suggested earplugs, a sound machine, or to just deal with it like every other person not living in Century Village. Now her husband gets a sadistic joy out of driving by my house around 9pm when my kids are asleep and beeping all the way to his house, passing 3 carpool houses along the way. Today I made a lovely introduction between them and the “Arlington Road” people, I’m sure they’ll become fast friends. Now if I can just get the cactus guy to attack their house all will be right with the world… or at least my block.

6 thoughts on “These Are The People In My Neighborhood

  1. Pearl Lockwood

    soooooo funny. as i expected. so glad you updated the email list to recapture your list….like me. brilliant. i love the wallpaper on your site. can’t wait to keep reading….

  2. barry

    Funny, funny , funny neighborhood article. Lucky your cactus farmer wasn’t growing Giant Redwoods. Love your writings, wish you’d write more often. Very funny!!

  3. Melissa

    I was looking for an escape from my reality tonight so i decided to read about yours. This was such a funny post I LOL’d the whole way through it. My neighborhood is finally getting a face lift with new walkways, roofs, elevators, etc. so today the concrete people redo the walkway in front of the elevators and clearly post yellow tape and orange cones with signs that say wet cement. They even shut down the elevators to prevent people who can’t read and see these obstacles from stepping in the wet cement. Yet my one neighbor seem to feel like he owns all 164 units and takes it upon himself to walk through the drying concrete while telling our property manager “you cant tell me not to walk here” as she hopelessly and frantically flails her arms yelling “stop, no!”
    People are unreal. Thanks for the great laugh and keep posting.

  4. nancy schutt

    I live in Seattle and my neighbors are fabulous- within the few blocks around my house there are at least 8 gay families, 6 Obama yard signs, and everyone walks their dogs everyday. Do you think this is a “people of the north, people of the south” phenomenon or is Florida a vortex for a certain, uh, type of person?

  5. Melissa

    Floridians, in my opinion, have little tolerance, compassion and respect for others. But then again, the lifestyle in Florida does not require us to interact with others as much as maybe some people who live in cities like NY or smaller towns. I use to live in NYC. I love New Yorkers. My experience has been that new yorkers really look out for one another, are very helpful and respect their neighbors for the most part. Maybe it has to do with the frequency of daily interaction with people because you live in such close quarters as well as transportation methods (subways and buses). I am sure this is one of many reasons.

  6. Pingback: A Night out with the Devil, I Mean my Hubby | The Suburban Jungle

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