Here in small town we get very excited over change. Now, naturally there are many opinions about change around here. There are those who have the "YAY Change!" opinion. There are the " Yay a face I can't recognize!" people, the " Yay new routines we are not familiar with yet!" people, the "Oooh la la, is that a foreign ACCENT????" people. and the "NEW GOSSIP MATERIAL? YAY!" people. These people love change.
Now, of course there are the other people, the "I don't like anything new or even anything that has been here for hundreds of years for that matter" people but we don't even ask their opinions because their faces say it all, and their faces, by the way, are the first things I'd change if I had my way. I mean, there should be a Government program that offers free plastic surgery (or at least a tax decduction) for those who have "Old Lady Look Of Doom Face" FULL STORY HERE. because it's a hazard to public safety. It's deadly I tell you.
Let's face it, Old Lady Look of Doom Face is a regional eyesore, and I'm sick of those faces looking at me, because looks can kill, after all. Damn old people and their secret weapons. Wait till I'm old. I'm going to be The Terminator of Old Ladies. Or perhaps The Mr. T of the Grannies. I'll decide which one later cuz I got plenty o' time. My face hasn't even begun to droop into a permanent scowl yet, and if I had tatoos, they wouldn't even be the least bit wrinkled.
Anyway, back to the point of this blog entry (ha.good one.) You see, new people around here are scarce. Many of the people here have been here all their lives which is why our liquor establishments are quite profitable. But as much as we love our old townies, we do like a fresh face once in a while too. At least we like the idea of a fresh face. The truth is my friends, that we secretly HATE EVERYTHING. and sometimes, when the booze starts shooting its mouth off, not so secretly.
You see, it may seem easy to come to places like this. Again, television has romanticized many of these places, the places that sadly, in reality, have sent countless people to the asylum, rehab or an early death, but that's TV for you. Bullshit. Anyway, it seems easy to come to a place that boasts a slower pace, family values, and quaintness. People come here for a holiday and next thing you know visions of B&B ownership are dancing in their heads. But many of these people come from cities and have no idea how to live in places where you actually have to speak to your neighbors and eventually offer them wine.
Recently a house sold that has been for sale, off and on, the entire time I've lived here. There are many theories about why this house is always for sale, including the usual unsellable house theories, but honestly it's just that it is a large house, more expensive than most and so attracts those who are not from places like this. In other words, it is a city person magnet. This house, however, with it's many renovated rooms and nicely landscaped yard, does not adequately prepare one for small town living. It basically sets you up to fail.
For instance. A front porch suggests that all you have to do to appear to be settled into small town living, is simply sit out on the porch on a nice wicker chair or maybe a rocker, right? Oh no. If you sit out on the porch, staring straight ahead over to your neighbor's house across the street every morning so that your neighbor never gets to wander out in her jammies with her coffee, well, you are not going to be very popular, and may even look like a pair of iguanas (dave's observation.) When you don't know how to properly sit on a front porch, you know it's probably a good idea to move back to the city, where there are no porches because it's too dangerous to sit outside and you probably live across the street from a crack house, so you drink your glass of nothing and stare at each other in your open concept kitchen instead. Anyway. that's what they did and the house stayed empty for a while. Naturally.
Anyway, I enjoyed my whole summer without anyone looking at me expectantly, and now we are about to have new neighbors which we are all a bit excited about, except me, because I know that these things can "go either way" and God often punishes me for being judgmental and so I'm pretty sure I'm about to be living across the street from The Beverly Hillbillies. Which of course would be AWESOME for blogging inspiration but probably not so awesome for real life survival.
So, just for fun, I'm going to offer some of the more frightening images I have dancing in my head in regards to this issue.
In other words,
HOW GOD MAY FIX ME FOR BEING SUCH A SNOBBY BITCH
1. There will be a table, a thrift store sofa, refrigerator, barbecue grill (restaurant size) two hammocks, a second hand cooler, and music speakers stuffed onto the porch. The music will be country rock.
2. They have two small dogs who wear clothing and have names like "Mr. Pumpkinhead" and "Twitter." They have another dog with a name like Buster who doesn't wear clothing but is a hound and bays at the moon at least 25 nights a month without fail and does his duty in my yard every morning at exactly 6:00 am, despite my threats and rock throwing.
3. They "stop by" or "pop in." because isn't that what small town neighbors do?
4. They purchase a hot tub and it is placed somewhere where we can see and/or hear them enjoying it.
5. One day they ask us to join them, and I start remembering all the innuendos and all the stuff I should have seen coming, and all the movies about the swinging 60's I watched. (something to do with keys and whiskey) and then I take 6 or maybe 10 showers, consecutively, with a scrubrush and harsh disinfectant soap, and pop some leftover penicillin, just in case.
6. Both sides of their extended family come for a week-long visit every July and everyone sleeps in tents in the yard. And they all have dogs - half of them hounds, and the rest are yippy barkers who wear pageant queen doggie outfits and poop non-stop everywhere.
7. They turn the house into an Inn and put dozens of chairs on the wraparound porch, Guests party all night long on hot August nights because they are on holiday and screw the rest of the world.
8. They move out and sell the house to OLD LADY.
And I probably deserve all of this. I was raised Catholic, after all.
THE END. FOR NOW...................