mnvnjnsn's Diary

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A day near the Roxburys

Sundays are usually the day I sleep late, eat crappy and fail to bathe, and today was no exception. Which wouldn't have been a problem except for the ring at the doorbell this afternoon. I was dressed in my sleepy clothes-- evening pants and a white wife-beater-- lounging on the bed with the cats. Trevor Dunnigan was, I don't know, doing something, when the doorbell rang. And rang. And rang.

Our front door has these nice bevelled windows in it that preclude any sort of hiding out from anyone, so it was obvious we were home, and the guy at the door just kept ringing. So, I got my ass outta bed and went to the door.

On the other side was Corky Romano. Seriously, this guy was the lost Kattan brother. He was hoping to trim our hedges, and walked around our yard pointing out all the great things he could do for our yard and dropping hints that he really really needed the money because his father just died and his car just broke down and apartment flooded, yadda yadda yadda.

Whatever. Our hedges need trimming and I'm sure as hell not equipped to do it, so I was willing to listen to him yammer about laurel care and whatnot, when our backyard neighbors came racing out of their driveway toward us.

This was the first time I had met our neighbors to the back since we moved in eight months ago. He was, I think, French and seemed nice enough at first. Then his preppy blonde wife came out. Now, I understand and value privacy. Part of the reason we had never met our neighbors was because we keep those hedges high. So it wasn't like I was going to let Mango prune them into oblivion.

But they didn't even ask what we were planning and instead began instructing me on what to do with my (rented) shrubbery in the most. Condescending. Way. Ever.

Granted, I was dressed like white trash and Monkey boy wasn't helping the matter any standing by his El Camino with shiny Mag wheels, but Mr. Euro-snob and his Hamptons wife just couldn't have been more unfriendly. I assured them I wasn't going to decimate the hedges, but they had to push the point.

"You know, because we don't want to have to see you."

The fuck? Where did that come from?!? It's not like I parade around the backyard in the nude whilst plucking my chin hairs. We don't throw raucous parties and not invite them (although, I think I will, now). We had absolutely no past with these people. What the hell did we do to deserve that kind of treatment?

So now I'm considering razing the entire hedge, and I'm saving up all my chin hairs for them.

5:10 p.m. - 2003-07-13


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