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.