I Like to Judge Without Knowing Anything

This week, with the weather being so delightfully cooperative, I’ve been able to use the outside time I’d normally be setting aside for urban Yeti stakeouts and running screaming from large aggresive bees to watch several interesting hipster couples that help populate my neighborhood.
If you know me – and by now I’ll assume you do- you understand my long standing fascination with the cast of characters that surround my house. Garage Roof Grill Guy, Naked Shower Man, Early Morning Asthetic Bin Arranger: they all make my life a rich a colorful tapestry. Lately though, I’ve noticed an influx of rather trendy looking young couples that defy description. Well, at least they defied description until I had a particularly eventful thinking session during the hair conditioning and leg shaving portion of my last long steaming shower. Now they  have been reduced to simple and insulting  stereotypes. Welcome to the neighborhood guys!

The first couple on my list flew across my radar late last summer. This happened for two reasons.  One was the gutwrenching overwrought display the young hipster girl across the street put on when her live in boyfriend went up the street to get groceries and buy her flowers. I know this because I was sitting on my porch eavesdropping while he calmly explained he’d only be gone for 45 minutes or so and that she should probably find something productive to do. As soon as he’d managed to trot out of her line of vision the panic set in. At the ten minute mark she was darting in and out of her house like a deranged hummingbird, peering up the street . Twenty minutes passed and she was pacing up and down the sidewalk sighing loudly and checking her watch with such exaggerated animation that I thought she was being filmed for some sort of A & E special on anxious maniacs. Forty minutes down and she was losing her shit in the worst kind of way. Having gone to that special place where people become completely impervious to what others are thinking about them, she ran wildly from the house to the corner with her cell phone leaving message after frantic message for this guy, who incidentally STILL was not late. Normally, I’d have packed it in at that point and lost interest in this little domestic drama but then she did the second and most spectacular thing that put her in my sites for good.  She spotted her returning love as he turned the corner and then clearly taking a page from the obsession and dependency handbook  and unable to prevent herself from having a spectacular reaction,she launched into a full on Fatal Attraction screamfest. Berating her stunned flower baring boyfriend for “scaring her to death” claiming that he could have been “dead or missing” and then alternating in a bizarre cycle between hitting him with the bouquet of daisies  and hugging him in exhausted relief.

Now he goes NOWHERE without her. If he’s skipping up the street, she’s right on his arm. At first I dubbed her “the barnacle” for the stubborn way she hung on the hull of his sinking ship but upon further examination of his pained and drawn face I have renamed her “the noose”.

Lucky couple number two, while far less explosive, has a sad, mean component to their relationship that’s sure to end in bloodshed. They use thinly veiled passive aggressive barbs that seem harmless on the surface but once delivered you can see the bubbling undercurrent of seething hate magma that threatens to crack the upper crust and spew all over the place. It’s usually something mundane and everyday about the division of labor while caring for the kids and a little remark will slip out about how the other one has “no idea” or remains clueless about some aspect of rearing this not yet speaking child who isn’t even mobile. I had a moment of brilliance where I contemplated letting the front door to my house swing open so they could see what actually awaited them no matter how many child rearing books they followed to the letter but then clarity returned and I let them go back to their eye rolling and snarfing at each other in abject irony. I have dubbed them “the wretched twosome”.

Here’s to another year of using my Nancy Drew skills to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong and solving numerous local mysteries!

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15 Comments

Filed under fatal attraction girl, grown men being hit by flowers, hide your bunnies, I like to give you fun names, I won't be IGNORED DAN!, if you're gone too long I'll go nuts, neighbors, nosy me, spying

15 responses to “I Like to Judge Without Knowing Anything

  1. Tom G.

    I often day dream about moving into a great big old colonial farm house in the countryside, with no one but the wild birds, and deer to keep me company, but then I realize that without neighbors to judge, and feel superior to, my life would be a hollow shell.

    Also “I won’t be IGNORED DAN!” is definitely in your all time top ten tags

  2. Oh my, that girl, she better prepare herself to be dumped soon. Unless her boyfriend is a musician, which reminds me of a stupid joke: “What do you call a musician with no girlfriend?” – “Homeless…” ha ha. Maybe he’s already dumped her, and she was on her way to stalk him…

    • dufmanno

      I don’t think he’s a musician, but I saw them bounding out of their front door hand in hand later on in the evening when he got home from work. He’s got that fake smile that Stockholm Syndrome victims always sport. The “everything is great why do you ask” grin. Their teeth are always clenched when they say it too.

  3. There is something simply delightful on snooping around and see how the other people lives, well, most of the time. Do you have some cold drink and a place to seat and see, bonus!
    🙂

    • dufmanno

      It’s almost as good as taking a walk at night when everyones lights are on so that I can see how their houses are decorated and what type of shenanigans they are up to. Or in the case of naked shower guy, what kind of shampoo and conditioner he’s trying out this week.

  4. macdougalstreetbaby

    You’ve got mad snooping skills, girlfriend. What I would give for a porch and some action. All my neighbors think they live in the land of milk and honey but all I see is a flatline. If I promise to bring my own notepad, can I come for a playdate?

  5. I bet the “barnacle” ends up the “dumped.”

    • Dufmanno

      I’m not sure if it would be in Stockholm Syndrome dude’s best interest to pry her talons out of his nutsack at this point.
      The amount of work it would take to free himself and then keep running at very high speeds to the other side of the world might just be too much at this point. Unless of course he’s just given up and is resigned to his fate.
      Poor bastard.

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