I Think Boy Two is Dead

So Boy 2 either moved out or was killed and put out in the monstrous trash cans the city gives us. He has been MIA for about a month. I am leaning towards dead because I don't think the guy can live on his own and no women would keep him this long. Plus, I never saw anyone move out -- no trucks, now moving boxes, no nothing. On the up side, it was boy 2 who was the loud mouth with the temper so there has been no midnight screaming.

Here are the scenarios I have played out in my head:

1. Boy 1 who seems to have a steady chick now had to off him to get the house back. Since we know he drinks excessively, boy 1 could easily poison him. Since we have huge garbage cans that are picked up by a mechanical arm -- easy disposal. He then hacked his FB page to continue to post "Tropically Thursday!!" and other such weird statements to throw people off the track.

2. He was taken out by his own men at training because they were tried of him coming there drunk. It has to be annoying to take care of the drunken solider. I won't even get into how easy the government coverup would be.

3. He slept with the wrong girl. This could go in one of a few ways. Most obvious -- he didn't call and she got so ticked off she offed him. She may have run him down on Tropical Thursday when he would have been too impaired to run or dusted the take out with belladonna. It could have also been that some girl bedded on Tropical Thursday may have had a husband or boyfriend. Again disposal in the city is easy.

For the record, I have no idea what Tropical Thursday is but I have heard it yelped frequently so I am assuming it is something that includes alcohol, paper umbrellas and drunk hoochies.

Hookers in the Hood

Today is probably the last day I will be able to use my porch for another year. For a beautiful Sunday afternoon, there isn't a whole going on...

Krista came out to talk about the car in the neighborhood that looks just like mine. I have seen it too. Copy cat! David came out to yell at her about the price of turkey. Apparently she paid too much. Funny thing is she bought it with the for the church with the money the church gave here so it doesn't really make a difference to him. She is really good at pretending he doesn't exist. She didn't even turn around - just kept talking. He went in and we continued our conversation. I put the last of the bird feed in the feeder and marveled at the disgusting soupy mess the pumpkin had become since the squirrels hallowed out all the edible parts. There is also a spaghetti squash out there which is completely in tact except for the small bite some squirrel took to taste it. Note to self -- woodland creatures do not like spaghetti squash. Hopefully both will rot happily over the winter. I found one year from my laziness that a pumpkin left out all winter makes for very fertile soil the next spring.

The only bit of excitement on the porch this afternoon has been the boys going to get their lunch (someone who actually cooks less than I do) and the lonely hooker who was wandering around the neighborhood. Yes I am just assuming she is a hooker. I have no real proof. I didn't ask her or see her proposition anyone. I am basing this theory on a few different things. 1. She looked like a Toledo hooker. Toledo hookers are not attractive women. They are usually pudgy, average looking, poorly dressed women. Today's hooker was wearing stretchy pants that were a bit too small and few inches too short, a sloppy top which fell off one shoulder making her look like a Pat Benatar wannabe, and no bra. 2. I know most of the people who wander my hood. I have not seen this woman before. She walked from Berdan to Balkan and wandered about halfway down before turning around and going back the way she came. 3. She seemed to be walking the space in front of Dave's old house. Dave got evicted in September. He hadn't paid his rent in a year (or so we were told). Dave claimed to have ben an orchestra conductor, psychologist, IT professional, and several other highly respectable occupations in the ten years I have lived here. It took them several days and several U Hauls to get his shit out and I am guessing there is a whole lot of it left in there because he was a huge hoarder. I know for a fact several of the items he took out of my dumpster never came out of there. Dave also has been known to have had a hooker or two in there. One actually seemed to live there for a while. 4. She was carrying a hairdryer. Who carries a hairdryer around? I am assuming in this poor economy, that payment is payment.

Since the hooker left, the only activity has been a lost old lady who stopped her car in the road blocking traffic and a squirrel who is presently tormenting Harley. Maybe he will eat the spaghetti squash.

You have to pay extra for that...

I miss one night on the porch and I regret it! Eric was going it alone while I was out with home ladies from work. In the middle of my second vodka cranberry, I receive a text from him with an update. In broad daylight in full view of the whole neighborhood, a nice young lady walked up to the neighbor's door in a white, lace negligee. When boy 1 answered the door, said young lady lifted the her top, exposed herself and gained entry. When I arrived home she was leaving, fully clothed in jeans and t-shirt. I have never seen her before, nor was she driving the car often parked in front of the house for overnights. I am guessing you have to pay extra for service like that.

How to make a romantic proposal.

Every now and then some random "friends of boys" entertain us with tales of love and romance. Today was such day. Some lucky lady is about the be the fiancee of one of the many Neanderthals who drinks beer and plays corn hole next door. After the discussion of where the ring was purchased (BG for the record -- it was a family tradition) the topic turned to the proposal. The ring bearer's pal suggested that he should do something really romantic to propose. To be honest, I was impressed. It didn't last long. The most romantic thing he can come up with it taking her to a Mud Hens game. Why is this romantic you ask? Because you get your picture on the jumbo-tron. Lucky lady, however, does not like the Mud Hens -- only Ohio State. The only other suggestion he had was to take her to Stello's in Perrysburg. I can only assume he meant Stella's, but close enough.

Everyone has a #@$^% boyfriend!

It seems the single life is not agreeing with boy 1. He just isn't getting enough, and what he is getting is taking up way too much of his valuable. For instance, today he had to chat up eight different girls and at 9 PM he is sitting with his married guy friend on the porch with a beer and his cell phone (which ain't ringing). From what I have gathered, the point of starting with 8 lucky ladies is so that you can ascertain which one is most likely to go to bed with you later in the evening. However, when you have a job and friends, this takes up a substantial amount of time and energy. I mean really, who wants to be chatting up girls when you could be getting drunk with the guys?

Now, when he was in a relationship he had to beat them off with a stick (or so he says). Amy (who has slept with both boy 2 and 3) texted him all the time with good offerers. Now she has a boyfriend. Everyone, it seems, has a man.

It is nice night for the porch and I have been feeling a bit nostalgic lately. I have been here for almost nine years. That seems like such a long time when I say it out loud but it feels like no time has passed.

I still smile when I see the peak on the house and laugh about the B&E Barb, Betty and I did to see the inside. (If it's unlocked is it really a crime?) I smile when I remember Anna helping me paint and how we both ignored my father's advice by not putting the second coat of paint on the ceiling. I smile when I think of the first "girls' nights" in the living room, of Isaiah's and Ivy's igloo, of Sara's and Matt's first visit and of my grandmother's one visit. I smile when I think the day Eric moved in and we threw all the crap out.

Things have changed -- some for the better and some for the worse. There are some things I miss.

I miss Flo and Don who lived next door. They had been together forever and had lots of kids and grandkids -- so many they had to rent a hall for holidays. One of their sons was in a punk band. He always loved my Dead Milkmen shirt. Flo used to make extra food and bring it over. I am pretty sure she felt bad for me knowing I have no culinary skills. She also made a mean vodka lemonade. Don was a golf pro who gave lessons to housewives and businessmen. He always said he could teach me to golf -- but that is an impossibility. He was also great with the one liners. When we got our new trash cans (for the automated system) he screamed "you could fit a body in there!" He made special trips to Sam's Club to buy huge bins of dog treats. Loki and Harley lost about 10 pounds each when they moved.

I miss John walking his mean little Sheltie every day and night. He would walk her over to see Don and Flo. The men would talk about the good old days and the dog would torment Harley and Loki. John passed away and his son walks the dog sometimes.

I miss my neighbor's late dogs Frick and Princess. They both lived here before me. Princess was the momma and Frick the "truck dog." When Frick passed David got drunk and sang songs to her until 3 am. She was his best friend.

I miss the little boys who used to come randomly hug you in the driveway.

I miss the idiot who used to drive his home-made Go Cart around the block with a beer in his hand.

I guess that is the thing about neighborhoods. They have a life and a history. I like mine.

"What's the scenery like?"

The Sunday of a long weekend is a fun time on the T-town porch. Lots of activity and hilarity.

The police were called to neighborhood by midday (probably for a domestic dispute although I don't think there was any actual violence just lots of yelling). There were about 15 screaming folks on the porch with two cops trying to make sense of the whole thing.

The boys were out last night and decided the best way to recover was to wake and bake then go swimming. The boys and friends frequently go to the front porch for one of three things: 1. smoke 2. talk on the cell phone 3. talk to a girl. What I can't seem to figure out is if they don't anyone is out here or if they are just too goofy or stoned to care. During the afternoon (pre-swimming) the whole house emptied out onto the 6 x 4 space that is the front porch. There was in-depth discussion on going swimming because it was just "too f@*#ing hot" to do anything else and the water was going to feel "so f@*#ing great!" There was some other mumblings -- mostly peppered with f@*# and other obscenities along with a lot of man, dude, and bro about the fabulous time had Sat. night. This included a Big Boy in someone's apartment, a B&E with a credit card into a friend's apartment, loss of said credit card, and boy 1's complete blackout of of the entire event.

While the boys were gone, Milo ran away -- not far just to the neighbor's yard. I can't say I blame him. His dad came out yelling the dog was missing. This is what happens when you let your puppy run around unattended. Milo's dad is going have a child soon. His skills have not been honed on the dog.

Post swimming at the boys house -- there was a lot of whining and crying about sun-burns. In an effort to ease their suffering, they self-medicated. Why do I know this? Because someone had to make a cell phone call and thus it was all explained about 10 feet from my porch while I read my book. One was so toasty he ended up lying in the driveway in the fetal position. In his defense, he did explain that "the gardner" who I assume is his dad, while cutting grass cut down his "weed" which was growing in the weeds near the house. The poor plant was taken from about a foot and a half to about four inches. Rest assured he did save it's remains and hang it in his closet to dry. They did manage to pull it together enough to call and look for action. The conversation ended with "what's the scenery like at this party?" and "what high school are they from." I am guessing that neither of these things should really be asked when you are baked and in your 20s. Sixteen will get you twenty son.

The sun has set and we will settle in for the fireworks. Every long weekend brings idiots with fire in West Toledo.

Why the loved ones can't go to Shorty's anymore...

My friend Barb calls young adults between 17-29 "loved ones." This started when her own son did what we all do while in college - drink, make an ass of himself, screw up classes, drink, get parking tickets, blah, blah, blah. For the record he has turned out incredibly well and is now a responsible happily-married father of a 3-week old son. Since she and I both work in higher ed we see a lot of "loved ones" in our offices after they have done one of the following:

• failed a class
• cheated on something
• lost eligibility
• lost a scholarship
• lost parental support
• is about to be removed from the class

It is an unfortunate truth that people have no ability to make consistence good decisions at this point in their lives. I do not claim to have skipped this phase -- on the contrary I am sure that the new neighbors are karma kicking me in the ass from my days in Tiffin. I accept it.

So obviously the boys next door do in fact fall into the "loved ones" category. The bad decision for this week -- herb. In the past week there has been a lot of herb in the air. I would like to say they keep it on the down low but obviously I can't.

Monday they smoked "little cigarettes" (Eric's term) on the front porch. Really? Dear lord. On Tuesday they moved to the back yard (better). However in the backyard they have access to objects that one on herb should avoid -- a grill, a lawnmower, and a skateboard. At this point I entered 911 into my speed dial. Barb says we have to take care of the "loved ones" because as dumb as they are they have mothers who would miss them. Luckily they also have a corn hole game out there and that seemed to amuse them more than the other items even if they do take it a bit too seriously. Soon the inevitable occurred -- some strange female showed up. I think she was new but it is hard to be certain. She was not boy 1's ex or the brunette that did the walk of shame to her car on Sunday afternoon, or any of the one's who have been pounding on the windows at ungodly hours. We dubbed her the "dope bitch" because she took over rolling "little cigarettes" on a lap desk. Try as I may to keep them inside, sooner or later, five dogs have to pee. My dogs, because they are so well trained, run directly to the fence and bark incessantly at neighbors. Apparently at this point it dawns on them that "little cigarettes" are illegal and they freeze like deer in headlights. I yell at the dogs who don't listen and then go inside to get treats because I don't relish the idea of dealing with petrified kids jamming to Miley Cirus. Hooray for dog treats.

Wednesday brings more corn hole and another random girl who was probably roped into the rolling gig. It also brings Neighborhood boys' friend -- he laughs like a female hyena and whoots a lot. When he pulls up to park in front of my lawn he is actually yelping. He continues to yelp all the way to the backyard and then yelps through corn hole. Corn hole breaks up early and girl leaves. I realize she is in fact young lady from walk of shame fame the previous weekend. The remaining corn holers end up on the front porch (which is not a big space) where they are giggling with their "little cigarette." Apparently the herb makes them forget that there are people sitting in the porch next to them because they begin to lay into the hyena about his sexual conquests -- poor Jesse and Amy being the latest. I figure you really have to be bad if the whores are calling you a whore. Hyena likes waitresses it seems and his pipe-laying through Toledo's establishments has begun to interfere with their lives. It ends with "Because of you, we can't even go to Shorty's!"

And we will call the invisible one boy 4

It is nice to be on the porch again. The street was bustling tonight. The father-to-be down the road was attempting, unsuccessfully to train Milo not run into the street. There was a good parenting moment of a mother bellowing at her child to go put his freaking pajamas on and go to bed. A man yelled at some woman for not accepting his friend request on Facebook (she got into her car and drove away so I am guessing they aren't going to be friends anytime soon). However the best evening porch moment goes once again to the neighbor boys. Boy three emerged this evening, trotted to the car and trotted back in. A few minutes later he returned. He trotted to the car, began laughing and talking to someone. At first listen you would think he was on the phone, but no. So I am calling the invisible one boy four.

Night of the Living Dead

So I am convinced Dracula lives on my street. A strange shaven-headed man just walked by the porch... in a full legnth black cape. I know you think I am kidding or on crack, but no -- Dracula just walked by my house. He walked past the house (actually he may have floated) and when he ws about 30 feet away he stopped under a street light, ruffled his cape around, looked up at the moon and moved on.

It's a shame he missed the boys coming home because he might have been able to partake in some alcohol enriched type O. They pulled in at break neck speeds about ten minutes after he passed. They were singing "no more pine tree, no more pine tree" in bad asian accent -- reminiscent of Jerry Lewis.

Maybe Dracula will come back so I can point him in the right direction. I think I might go look for a turtle-neck first...

Idol and other weirdos

Last night was warm and the weirdos do come out at night...

Down the road there was a neighborhood rendition of American Idol. I have no idea what the song was because I am completely out of touch with popular music. I won't lie and say there was a whole lot of talent, but she did it with all the passion one would expect from a neighborhood song-fest.

The boys had a party which is not surprising because it was Friday. They have made a conscious effort to keep it down probably because Krista went over in her bathrobe and screamed at them as only a mother of four adults could. It could also have something to do with her husband's last trip to the gun show. One of the boys does appear to have a new girlfriend. He was trying to get a few moments alone with her on their stoop. It would have been sweet and romantic, except I know all boys to be whores. I have been there when the girls from the week before come banging on the doors and windows at 2 AM so they don't fool me. After they went back to the party, some random girl (who Eric thought was the WIC recipient of a few weeks ago) pulled up in front of our house, jumped out of the car, ran in, ran out, went back to the car, and drove away all within 3 minutes. No idea what it was about. I would say drug deal but not enough time passed for money to change hands. For the record, she didn't look pregnant to me so I think it was someone else. I used to find this a bit strange, but now I look forward to the new characers I meet on the porch.

Questions for a chilly evening

Braving the porch tonight has brought up several questions.

Who are the new neighbors... The rental house two doors down has new tenants. Since there were half a dozen people there unloading and no one actually stayed, there is no way to know who is living there. I'm going to be honest I an not happy with any of the possible choices. The boys aren't happy either because they lost their alternative parking spot (the rental house's driveway) as well as the second recyclable can they snagged from the back as soon as the last tenant moved out. Now there is no where for all those empty beer bottles to go on Sunday afternoon.

What kind of parent or parents are letting their children play in the street at 9:30 PM on a Wednesday. Is April 29th some type of school holiday I don't know about? There are at least two and possibly more little goofballs running in the middle of the road yelling and screaming. Fine parenting! At one point there was a repeated cry of "Are you alright?" in a unique urban hillbilly accent one can only find in T-town.

Lastly, where does all this traffic come from on a Wednesday night? This place is Grand Central Station. There is nothing near here of interest except the 7-11 and believe me it is not that interesting. We aren't "on the way" to anything. There is no construction forcing intra-neighborhood travel. Maybe it's just a good night for a drive down crappy pothole infested streets where you are able to dodge badly parked cars and children who should have been in bed.

December 19, 2009

It's too cold to sit on the porch tonight so here's a past neighborhood story. On December 19th of last year, we heard a strange noise. Eric says "that was a car crash." Like the nosey neighbors we are, we both raced to the door. Sure enough, it was a jeep bouncing from one of the neighbors cars to the next. After smashing into two cars on the street the jeep careens into the telephone pole right in front of our house. After trying to back up and regain control (which didn't happen), the driver jumps out and starts to run. "He's going to get help," Eric says. He wasn't. By now, the drunk neighbors and friends have run outside to assess the damage, I am on the phone with the police and Eric is realizing he is not going for help. We point the drunk boys in the direction of the perp, in hindsight that was a bad idea. Thank GOD they didn't catch him. Instead they took out their drunken anger on the jeep. Boy 1 (that owns the place) is the more level-headed of the bunch and yells that the cops are coming. There is a lot of swearing. T-town's finest arrived and talked to the boys first. The jeep had hit Boy 1's roommates' cars (like a pinball game). He then looked around, walked the path the perp had taken, and then came to chat with us. We gave our best description of the guy who ran off. White guy, average, and running. According to the policeman this happens all the time. We never did find out who it was. I hope the boys at least got some cash for the damage.

April 16th - still sitting on the porch

Sitting here on the porch with a blanket in because the temp dropped about 20 degrees.

Today we learned the little boxer-looking puppy is named Milo -- a name neither of us approve of -- sorry if that offends anyone.

We witnesses John;s son come home on his bike. I really wish I knew his name but I don't. The only reason I know John's is before he passed away he spent a lot of time with his mean little Sheltie next door. John's son rides his bike from work (which I think i at Krogers) often time carrying a 6 pack of beer which I find impressive. He has done this all the years I have lived here.

That was about the extend of the evening until the neighbor boys came home. It is somehow comforting to know that the boys can be counted on for my entertainment. Tonight's story was short but it isn't quantity its quality. For the record I suspect this will not be as funny if you weren't present.

Boy's friend tells the following story-- once in kindergarten he knew a girl. Apparently this girl once crouched down behind her school desk and jumped up yelling "HAAAA" buck naked. This was made more humorous by the fact that it was completely random. It was completely unprompted and nothing was said after. Bizarre.

April 11th (A day late)

Yesterday was a pleasant afternoon on the porch. A bit chilly, but pleasant none-the-less. The activity started early. Tony (the neighborhood hoodlum) fought with his mother, chasing her out of the house. She yelled and one of the neighbors intervened before anything went horribly wrong. This sounds really awful, I know, but I have been here for almost 10 years and this scene has played out pretty much the same way as long as I have lived here and by all accounts, long before. It seems almost routine. The cops came and broke it up, but there is little they can do since the mother won't ever throw him out. Makes me happy to be childless.

Later in the day, we realize that there are beer cans all over the street. One here, one there, one a bit further down. We assumed these cans were empty and had fallen out of someone's recycling bin. It had been a windy few days. This assumption was reevaluated when we saw a strange man walking down the street checking each can. If they were empty he smashed them and if they were full he picked them up. He had two good ones that we could see (one in each hand). When asked my neighbor Krista, she verified that several beer cans were full and unopened. She found this out after her husband rolled one to their chocolate lab. She chopped down one, spraying beer all over. Apparently she is a beer drinker.

April 10th on the Porch

The porch is open for business again this year.

Today on the porch we were witness to several amusing events.

1 - The neighbor boy's friend got in his car, went down the road and about 3 minutes later returned. There was no booze, cigarettes or soda in hand so who the hell knows what he did. He then went in the house and reemerged several seconds later with a prescription drug bottle that he stuck in his car. We can only assume this was the boy's OxyContin.

2 -The new neighbor attempted to train his puppy by plopping it into the middle of the yard and then yelling when it tried to run in the road. This happened quite frequently. He did eventually give up and pick the puppy up to put it inside. There is some debate as to the breed. I say boxer. In any event the lady in the house who looks like she swallowed a beach ball will probably kick it to the curb when the baby comes and I will be forced to find it a home (the dog not the baby).

3 - The OxyContin thief reemerges with the boy and friends. The conversation went a bit like this --

thief "Do you need any milk?"

boy "What?"

thief "Milk! We have a ton of it. We get it on WIC"

boy"Huh?"

thief "You get it when you're pregnant. They give you milk, cereal, and other shit. It's like welfare but it's not because we can afford it but why would you buy it when they will give it to you for free!"

At this point as if directed by some higher power, the mother-to-be shows up, parks poorly in the middle of the street and pulls out a gallon of milk. The milk exchanges hands, obviously as a partial payment for the OxyContin. There is some babbling about nothing in particular. However the poor parking job leads to:

4 -- One large white van and a small white car come to the poorly parked car. The parked car has narrowed the street to one lane. Both cars yield. The small white car advances. The large white van guns it and swerves as to not hit the other cars. In doing so it hits the curb, pops the tire, and the rim goes rolling down the street. The mother-to-be and gang watch with amusement. The father-to-be aka the thief begins taunting the driver. The driver and passenger of the small white car (who live a few doors down) jump out and swear several times to the neighbors who have gathered at the commotion. Mother-to-be tells father-to-be to shut up, the guy with the puppy wanders back out to see what's going on, another neighbor adds her voice to what an ass the white van driver is and all is well with the world.