Monday, June 8, 2009

Pointless Argument #47: Nothing Says Welcome to the Neighborhood Like a Flaming Bag of Dogshit on Your Doorstep

Sure, most people like to welcome their new neighbors with a plate of homemade baked goods. And that's fine—as long as you realize that this is how things are going to go down:
  1. New neighbors move in, you welcome them with a pan of your famous lemon bars.
  2. You exchange small talk over your fence for a few weeks.
  3. New neighbor man asks to borrow your lawn mower. Of course you say yes.
  4. A week later, lawn mower has not been returned.
  5. New neighbor man denies having borrowed lawn mower, yet blatantly uses it to mow his lawn.
  6. Heated words are exchanged over the fence.
  7. Small items begin disappearing from your porch and yard.
  8. New neighbor woman gives you the deep freeze when you see her in the morning.
  9. You realize she never returned your lemon bar pan.
  10. Your cat goes missing.
  11. Also the framed wedding photo from your mantel.
  12. You wake up to discover a large knife stabbed into your pillow. Through your wedding photo. And your cat.
Why not just save yourself the hassle of those initial niceties and go straight to the I-hate-yous? You'll thank me, I'm sure—and so will your cat.


  1. Hey, not everybody lives next door to the Mansons. Some of us have neighbors that are very well-adjusted - they mostly keep to themselves but do come out of their house every couple of weeks, have installed excellent sound-proofing, don't leave bits of evidence laying around the yard, and have the courtesy to load bodies into their trunks with the garage door closed.

    Most psycho neighbors know better than to pick fights with people who could notify the authorities to their private activities before they get the chance to take you out.

  2. I generally find it is easier and more rewarding to become the neighborhood eyesore than to engage with the neighbors in any way. Rent a backhoe and dig up your yard. Put a discarded sink or toilet on your front porch. Park a car or ten on your lawn. Trust me, no one asks the jug band family to borrow anything.