I love my commentors. Commenters? Commenteurs? (Commentators can’t be right, can it?) Whatever. What I am trying to say is that you people are hilarious.
I don’t know most of you, but I do know a lot of you in real life. Some of you I have known for a very long time, take my Mom for example. But really, I have known Alison from AliBlog and her brother Beau since I was in first grade. AliBlog was the first blog I ever read. I remember one time she called some of us out. She thought we should have our own blogs. She called out Gabe and Mich. Neither of them started their own blog, but then there was me.
She created a monster.
Back to what I was saying before. I have known Mich since I was in girl scouts. She doesn’t comment all of the time, but when she does it is always worth reading. Read her comment from this post:
My favorite neighbor is an alcoholic dead beat dad with party plates and a breathalizer ignition. When he gets home from drinking on hot summer nights, he pees in the driveway. We live in one of those rustbelt city neighborhoods where the houses are separated only by the driveways. The screen in our bedroom window is the only thing to buffer the sound. It’s like he’s pissing in the same room with us. (Oh — and by the way — we mow his lawn sometimes. But that’s because it would NEVER get mowed otherwise.) And he’s our favorite!
The neighbor on the other side told us he is sick. My husband asked what was wrong, and the dude just pointed at his head. He constantly asks if he can use our ladder. I don’t know what for. We keep saying no.
The sick-in-the-head-ladder-craving guy lives in a two-family house and the people who live upstairs from him are Middle Eastern. We saw them the day they moved in. We see the husband all the time, but the wife has never come out of the house — in two years!!
We have another neighbor who noticed a small leafy twig growing out of our chimney. He begged us to call the authorities right away so that we wouldn’t die of carbon monoxide poisoning.
Before the Middle Eastern couple moved in, there was a chain-smoking 60-something-year-old woman living up there. We called her Leather Face. Once, we were driving through town and saw her lying on the ground propped up against the storefront of the corner bar. We said, “Hey! That was Leather Face passed out on the curb!”
Abbreviated version of the rest of the neighborhood:
Cat Lady (our second favorite)
If Mich doesn’t need her own blog, I don’t know who does. Either that or a sitcom based on her neighborhood. I already told her that if she does get a tv show, I want to play Derrick the Screamer.