This post was inspired by Joan’s post over at Whatever I Think and by my ‘fun to mess with’ neighbors.
I am anti-social with my neighbors. I don’t give them more than a “good morning” or a “how ya doing?” as I am bolting to my car or to my house. I much prefer to just wave and keep moving. They think I am weird or in a perpetual bad mood and I prefer to keep it that way.
This came about because of the actions of our country neighbors. Linda and Mark, I am using their actual names because I am not going to protect them because they are not INNOCENT!
Linda and Mark introduced themselves the first day that we moved in. We were very busy carrying in boxes and furniture from the moving truck. I thought it was sweet that these STRANGERS jumped in and gave us a hand. Now, I know they were just checking out our junk.
Linda kept opening boxes and volunteering to help me put things away. The frickin truck was not even unloaded and I did not have a clue where I was putting anything at that point.
Mark was a handy neighbor to have close by. He helped erect the wooden play ground and helped us putting up the fence. Again, we never asked for help. He was like a stray kid in the neighborhood that I had to send home at dinner time. (he was in his early 30’s and no kid)
On our days off we often jolted awake by a knock at the front door. Mark and Linda would be standing there with their coffee cups and ask if we mind if they have coffee with us. They did this on a regular basis.
I explained to my hubby (a city slicker to the max) that country folks are just overly friendly like that. It got to the point that we were hiding in our own home to keep from spending every free minute with them.
Now don’t get me wrong, they were as sweet as you could ask for in neighbors… but, good gosh! We needed our own time to unwind and be a family after a full week of work.
That only lasted a couple years until we moved back to the city.
We agreed that when we moved we would not make friends with our neighbors. We were traumatized!
Now of course the fabulous Mr. J (my hubby) has made friends with Mike and George. I have not and will not. They drive me batty. One is a nickel and dime drug dealer the other is a petty thief. (yeah, I am in a great neighborhood)
I refuse to have anything to do with them because I grow weary of pretending that I think they are OK in my book. I am sure that before long the disgust will shine thru in my eyes.
I am not perfect by any means and should not judge how they chose to make a living… But, I do judge them and want nothing to do with any of the people who drop by their homes.
Mike lives right next door. What you see when you meet Mike is a big soft goofy (think giant dopey teddy-bear) type. He is a very friendly person and can bar-b-que like nobodies business.
My beef with Mike is the constant traffic of unsavory people dropping by to buy pills and nickel bags of weed. They are often leaning on my car or peeing by my fence. They drive my dogs batty.
Well, here is how I became known for my Voodoo:
One afternoon Mike was outside washing his truck in the driveway. He had a couple buddies over and they were all drinking beer and laughing. Every once in a while Mike would spray my dogs with the water hose.
I was watching this all thru the kitchen window while I was washing dishes.
Growing annoyed (that happens easily with me anymore) I opened the back door and asked him to stop.
He was embarrassed that I had caught him and quickly said, “Uh, Yes Miss Cindy. I’m sorry. We were just messing around.”
(hehehe… I love living in the South and being called Miss Cindy)
Well, about 20 minutes later the dogs began to bark again. I stepped over to the kitchen window and watched Mike once again spraying them with the hose.
(Chance, my brave protector)
My hubby grew up in Texas and had ‘schooled’ me on various superstitions. He also told me that Mike was scared of me. (I will explain that one on a later post)
So, I armed myself with a pair of scissors and a lighter and walked into the back yard.
I glared at Mike whom I had busted with the hose aimed in my direction. He started apologizing out his ass at this point. But, I never said a word.
I walked over to Chance, my male chow, and clipped off a good size tuft of hair from his mane. I then walked over to Mike’s driveway where he was standing with his buddies. I placed the hair in the palm of my hand and lit it on fire. I then blew the burning hair in his direction. When it landed on the pavement. I walked over to the hair, that was smoking at this point. I circled it once. Stopped and glared at Mike again, spit on the hair, and turned and walked back in my house.
I didn’t dare turn around to look because I was trying so hard not to laugh.
Mike’s two buddies got in their car and sped off. Mike ran in his house.
About five minutes later my hubby called and asked what had just happened. He said that Mike called him at work and was freaked out.
I just told him that Mike was spraying the dogs and I asked him to quit.
The next morning there was a large bag of dog food sitting by my back gate.
No, I have never practiced voodoo. I have no idea what I was doing… I just wanted to mess with him and it worked!
DisIsMyPlace 