Monday, July 24, 2006

crazy/teh velvet internets

I'm kind of excited because I think we're getting crazy people for neighbors? Yay?

The house across the street was for sale for months, over-priced even though it was beautiful. When the real estate agents would hold open houses, I'd go over there to ogle the kitchen, which had built in wine coolers or whatever. A kitchen lovingly, painstakingly, beautifully put together by Well-Groomed Guy Neighbor Who Never Talked to Us, His Boyfriend, and those viscious hos at Ikea.

Anyways, his asking price was asanine, so he never sold it. It's been for rent for months, and thus far, no one's been biting. The blinds have been drawn, and I haven't seen anyone coming or going in weeks and weeks.

Saturday the dog and I were laying in the front yard area, slappin' mosquitos and waiting for the 6th-grade-ish summer boredom to pass/my parents to come over and buy me food, because I need adults to take care of me (seriously), when a purple sedan pulled up. The sedan had DC plates, a normal looking middle-aged dude was driving and in the passenger seat was a blonde woman in black formal overalls.

The woman gets out of the car and starts walking to the house. I am not paying much attention at this point because A) mosquitos!, and B) I was trying to gather up enough strength to get up and go inside/not be sprawled across my front porch like a drunken hobo? Just in case this woman, who I assumed to be a realtor or something, was going to show this rental to some nice young couple with shiny hair and I wanted them to think the neighborhood was higher class than an unwashed blonde chick passed out in her front yard?

So the dude is still in the car, and Overalls lady walks up to the front door of the house and starts fumbling with some papers and keys, and although at this point I'm trying to stop BD from treating a passing squirrel like a chew toy, out of the corner of my eye I see her insert the keys in the door. But she's having trouble: the door seems stuck.

And so she starts banging on the door. And then kicking it. And then slapping it with both hands. And then, she drops her pile of papers, and starts WAILING. Sobbing. Crying harder than I've ever seen a grown person a person in formal overalls cry. The dude in the car just sits there.

The dog has completely forgotten the squirrels and is staring across the street. I'm kind of pissed because any other nice Saturday afternoon like this, and the sidewalks would be swarmed wih my neighbors and their purse dogs and there would be some sort of evidence that I was actually witnessing a stranger's full-fledged mental breakdown, but at this moment, NO ONE IS AROUND. It's just me, the dog, and Crazy Screaming Overall Lady. I actually looked at BD and asked him "what the fuck?" out loud and I'm so serious, he looked back and was like "Dude, I KNOW."

Because I am totally inept at these sorts of things and mostly uncomfortable with strangers' overt display of emotions, I totally freeze. I suppose I could have yelled across the street to ask if she needed help, but by the time I though of it, dude driving the car had gotten out and was walking up to the house totes casually, as if he sees this kind of freak out all the time? And Overall lady finally gets the door open, pushing on it until she falls in a heap into the open doorway? And then BD and I went inside our house, and I peered through the blinds like a crazy lady myself? And if this lady moves in across the street, we might have to have crazy-offs? So many questions, internet.

In other housing association newsletter news, my favorite ridiculously nice neighbors J & C are moving to Japan and that is v. sad. And they're moving in like, 2 weeks. The hell.

Here, waste some more time:

- via our dogwalker's blog: Cats That Look Like Hitler.

- via Critical, darling ("L0u R33d iz teh r0xx0r!!11!!oneone!!"): Fark's MS Paint album cover thread.

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