Anger Management

When my neighbor told me I should learn to control my temper, I wanted to stab him in the face.

Case in point, I guess.

Caveman Olymics

I got into an argument with my neighbor.  He doesn't let things go easily.  

I am well aware that I'm in a glass house, and I don't care.  I am CHUCKING that rock as hard as I can, like a caveman's shotput.  

I am a prowler of the night variety

Yesterday, I saw a fire on my neighbor's lawn.  It was spreading a little bit.  

10 at night.  Nobody else around.

So I went to their house, knocked on the door.  

The woman was freaked out, in her bathrobe and clutching it tight, in that 'please don't rape or rob me' desperate bunch-up with the hand.  She even looked at me from a slight lean, not actually fully in the doorway but sort of leaning in, as if not showing her whole body 

55 year old fugly lady.  Gets her husband. 

I very politely tell them there's a fire on their lawn, and just wanted to let them know - just in case they weren't aware that they might die in the middle of the night screaming 'I'm on fire, if only I'd been warned by someone else.'

They tell me that it's normal for their lawn to be on fire, nothing to worry about, they were burning trash, and they thank me for coming by.

The next day, today, my close neighbor berates me for prowling around the neighborhood late at night, terrifying women.  

Apparently the whole neighborhood thinks I'm a prowler now. 

Gossiping is a sport here.  And I have no qualms about describing that withering husk of a woman 'fugly.'  

...FUG-LY.  

This started a whole argument between him and me, where I apologized and ended up cooking him chicken to smooth things over. 

Mo' money, mo' problems

"Mo' money, mo' problems."

I agree.  It's just that the problems get a little less serious.

When you're poor, it's "I can't afford dinner."

When you're rich, it's "I can't find a parking spot for the Jag," "I don't trust my poodle's therapist," and "this platinum-diamond necklace makes me look fat."

I'll take the "mo problems" any day.

Scuba Diving

I went scuba diving.

We were surrounded by a school of fish, thousands of them.

Flew past and around us.  Like silver scaled leaves flowing all around.

The only sound was my Darth-Vader respirator.

This is what I write to people who don't respond to my emails

"What is it, Lassie?  Timmy's stuck down a well?  He's there right now?  Well then we gotta go right -  

...you mean, he was there?  A few days ago?  So he got himself out?  

....You don't know.  

As in, you heard from him, but then took your sweet time getting here?

What the hell happened in the meantime, Lassie?"

"A smokebreak?  Several smoke breaks?  I didn't know Collies could smoke.  How do you light the thing without thumbs?

What else, Lassie?

...Gilmore Girls?  You sat your furry ass in front of a Gilmore girls marathon, occasionally pissing on Timmy's bed?  

What do you mean, 'it was him or me'?  

-------------------------------------------

See, THIS is why they went through a dozen Lassies.  They just couldn't stay on-the-ball with correspondence. 

Special Needs

I lived in another country for six months.  My host family thought I was retarded.

I know that's not a politically correct term, but it's the one they used.

I didn't speak the language all that well, and they assumed that meant I wasn't smart.

Kinda like assuming that a deaf person is "un-cultured" just 'cause he doesn't like opera.

If you can't hear the music, it's just a fat lady waving at people.

...and I'm not retarded.