Sunday, July 21, 2013

What is it they say about sturdy fences making good neighbors?

Dear New Neighbor,

  First, I guess I should introduce myself. My name’s Chris and I’m the one you saw skid-trip-mud-surfing in my yard this morning. If you’d like to know more about me, feel free to click on my Bio page email me for more information wave and say, “Hi!” as you drive past next time and I’ll run screaming in embarrassment I’ll Zombie-shuffle over I’ll wave back.

  Please believe me when I say I wanted to make a good impression since everyone else in a five mile radius is already finds me creepy and annoying. And I really am sorry about the state of my mud-boggy yard and all the birds kinda running amok, but the sad truth is I am currently unable to do much about it. Oh, it’s not that I can’t, it’s more that I CAN’T.

  You see, recently nothing really “crazy” (besides myself) has been happening in my life and I’m running out of funny things to write about. So I’m sure you can see WHY I need the slip-n-slurp yard and goofy everywhere-birds for material.

  Trust me on this, I’ve been giving it my all, just HOPING for something, ANYTHING to happen that would provide fodder…I’ve even begun to engage in all manner of risky behavior. For instance, this morning (on only ONE cup of coffee, I might add) I chased a cat through my swamp-of-a-yard. Barefoot. In the dark. And failed to lose my balance and belly-slide, head-first down the front hill.

  Then, when I came inside covered in mud from the knee caps down, did I sit down and wash my feet off in the tub like a normal human-type person? Oh No! I stood up and stuck my foot in the kitchen sink, hoping I’d lose my balance, falling in a way that my big toe would somehow manage to get itself stuck in the facet, leaving me stranded until someone heard my panicked screams and came to rescue me. (Because I’d literally be kinda laying on my shoulders, hanging by a toe with nothing to grab a hold of and pull myself upright to freedom.) But the bad thing would be, by the time they got there, my toe would have swollen and be super-majorly-STUCK and they’d have to call 911 because I was a dumb ass and had managed to entrap myself in the kitchen sink. (With one foot still covered in mud.)

  But all that happened was my feet got clean.

  Then when I was getting ready to go out for morning bird work, I stood on the top step and leaned against the wall to put my socks on instead of sitting down like I normally do. There I was, just DARING the Universe for something like me losing my balance and starting to pinwheel down the steps only to catch myself at the last minute by my big toe in the banister support thingies, leaving me stuck upside down, calling for help until someone woke up and dashed to my rescue. Only by the time they heard my pleas and arrived, every cat in the house would have taken up residence on my softly padded body. Then? My supposed rescuer would pause long enough to take blackmail video, post it on YouTube, and I’d become an overnight viral-video sensation!

  Sadly, the only thing that happened was I ended up wearing a pair of clean socks.

  I even walked through three suspicious looking  spider webs without doing the “GETOFFGETOFFGETOFF” dance, thinking maybe I’d end up discovering a new species of spider after if bit me. I know, I know. Spider bites are no laughing matter. But this one would be! Because this one’s venom would have the side effect of turning your skin bright orange and your hair green so I’d look like a gigantimus, waddling pumpkin when I made it to the ER and the whole friggin’ staff would be laughing their butts off at me and I’d have some awesome-ass pictures to go with my post!

  Alas, all that happened was I got a mouthful of mystery-web.

  I hope now you can see that, despite the appearance of my yard and the uncontrolled poultry populace, I really am a normal, down-to-earth kinda gal and I look forward to MANY years of happy-neighbor-times together.

  Hey! If you don’t have any plans this week, maybe you family and mine could get together for a weenie roast. After all, you just never know what manner of kooky hijinx will go down at a friendly, neighborhood, get-to-know-you weenie roast.

  I can’t wait to hear from you! (And soon. Cause I’m getting desperate for new material over here.)

Your new friend,

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