and that's why a window above it would be such a joy, if only...
What happens above that psychedelic cluster of crayons, cap gun bullets, atomic fireballs, mermaid figurines, and gluesticks? That wide window that so graciously shines its energy upon my monkey shaped scissors and various white power adapters has a downside only I must suffer.
Did you look closely at this photo? If you did, you will have noticed a man standing on his back porch.
This man, or "neighbor" if anyone is ignorant enough to call him so, is the fiasco spoiling my wide window.
I must tell you I named it The Wide Window because it's the title of a Series of Unfortunate Events book that I love. The one with Uncle Ike and the Lachrymose Leeches. Most things I think are nice concern books, which is why this "nay-bur" is ruining my entire bookish fantasy by lounging around smoking on his back porch day in and day out as if he wants to die now instead of in ten years. At the rate he's going, I cannot see why he must exit the house to smoke because he is probably so drenched in the smell that he drags it into the house when he's done anyway. Woooooo wee, someone's bitter.
I don't care if people smoke. I dated a heavy smoker, I'm used to it. I care about my Wide Window being absolutely ruined by a lurker to the point where I have to check and see whether he's out there before I open my drapes to the robin's egg sky and the lush flora lining the edges. In the time it's taken me to type this so far, he's been out four times. FOUR! The movie watcher in me already took a picture (which I provided for you) and pretended to shoot him as a sniper. Now what does the paranoid potential-victim in me do when I feel like he's always staring? Perhaps I should just eliminate that me and stick with the movie watcher me. It's a much cooler me. Spy shit (E. Ring, 4/9/09).
So you, lurker, in your hooded sweatshirt and Nascar-event tendencies, are the single thing i'll be happy to leave when my family moves (albeit 3 minutes away).
PS: scratch that... FIVE TIMES NOW he's leaned his (is it brown or blonde? I hate not being able to tell) limp head over the fence and infuriated me with his neverending presence in my should-be-delightful window.
10 comments:
On your departure, you should leave him some sort of message in the window. One giant piece of construction paper, one thick magic marker, a few choice words. Priceless.
Pasturn - a dance move featured in folk dancing from the Northwest region of Canada.
Hahahah he's totally creeping your view. What you really need is a slingshot and then you can get all Dennis the Menace on his ass.
PS-- love the Atomic Fireballs container!
draw a happy little fellow on some paper, color him pretty, and glue-stick him onto your window exactly where the smoker-lurker smoke-lurks. maybe?
ha ha ha... you guys are the best. i've never received better advice.
if you could use your superpowers to magiacally morph creepy porch guy into someone you'd actually WANT looking in your window several times a day, would you turn him into a)Samwise b)Natalie c)Thom d)Harry or e)someone else?
p.s. dating heavy smokers. been there, sister - for over 5 years. bleeh.
he got the message. smoking is cool remeber that kids.
My High School had ten floors, and the stairwell on the backside of the building had barred openings between the floors that you could look out from. Across from us there was an office building. During our lunch periods, my slacker friends and I would hang around in the stairwell and, you know, do slacker things. Occasionally there would be a woman working at a desk in the window directly across from us on the fifth floor. We didn't point and laugh or anything, but she saw us often and occasionally looked our way. But after a few weeks, she had the audacity to put up a sign that said "GO BACK TO CLASS"
Naturally, we felt retribution was necessary. So the same day she put that sign up, we went up to the cafeteria, got as many little milk cartons as we could, and proceeded to pelt her window with them mercilessly. It was a great success for slackers everywhere, I think.
In any case, my advice to you is to pelt him viciously with little milk cartons till he learns his god damned lesson.
Number one, you were awesome in my dream last night. My family was apparently throwing some sort of Christmas party and you came over to help set up and progressively got crazier and crazier till by the end of the dream a.) my house looked freaking amazing and Christmafied, and b.) you, yourself, were wearing what looked a bit like an elf outfit, christmas apron, stockings, skirt, earrings, even green eye shadow. Little elf Janet was running around my home lighting candles, baking cookies, stringing lights. It was beautiful.
Speaking of parties at my house, be at my home tomorrow. The festivities begin at 2. We are celebrating both my departure and the birth of Nolan Ring 19 years ago.
Not a big deal, v.i.p. only, bring a copy of this comment as proof of invitation.
Falkerra - the first ever female assassin for hire. Her importance as a "female first" is ranked by feminists everywhere up there with the first female astronaut and Rosie the Riveter.
I have a neighbor JUST like this fellow, minus the cigs. My theory is that he is unhappy with his family and needs to get away from them, under the premise of "watering the plants." But, in his case, taking a cig break. I think you should get a spy ear and listen in on his family conversations. They're probably on the brink of divorce. I'm sure of it!
Go white MacBooks!! can't believe I didn't catch that the first time.
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