Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Ghetto Fabulous

I hate the new neighbors. They are renters and it shows. It shows through in their dreadlocked do's, in their stained wife beater tees, in their skilled two-wheels-on-the-curb parking, and in the intentional way they allow their dog to trample the other neighbors flowerbeds. Fellow homeowners care. Typically, renters (especially this breed) don't.

We live in a nice family neighborhood of elderly and infirm. The houses are modest and neat with pruned flowerbeds and neatly edged yards. No one allows their dog to to roam free. Cats, maybe, but cats are funny that way. Of course, I purposefully put the cat outside because -well- let's just say I'm not the cat person in this relationship. Plainly put: Cats suck. But, I digress.

Our neighborhood is a family place. Not a haven for a non-traditional family of three men, one woman, one mutt, and a baby. No matter how much I wish it, the neighbors aren't moving out. They still sit on their stoop and smoke pot, they still swing their baby about by her arms or ankles, and they still park four honkin' SUVs in a spot meant for a 1950s station wagon. It defies physics, space, and logic.

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