Thursday, March 23, 2006

The Wonderful World of Neighbors

I'm exhausted again. All week long, I've been either begging for boxes, packing boxes or taking boxes back and forth to my new apartment. It's more draining than I imagined it could ever be. These constant drives back and forth helped me realize that I'll miss some of the people at my current apartment complex that have made my year here so memorable. Here are a few:

Jimmy the Joke Man: Thank you, Jimmy, for all those times you stopped me in the parking lot to tell me a new joke you've incorporated into your routine. No matter how fast I walked, or ran, you always caught up with me. I never knew how many knock knock jokes there were until I met you. Your imitation of Bill Clinton was priceless. Best of luck in your future career as a comedian. So what if you're like 57 years old and can't carry on a normal conversation without going into Rodney Dangerfield mode. The world is yours. And if you're ever in my new neighborhood .... nah, forget it.

The Recovering Rocker: I did appreciate all those times you knocked on my door and offered to give me free guitar lessons inside your apartment, just the two of us. Pardon me if I was a bit taken back by your offer. I don't get many bearded men reeking of weed banging on my door at all hours of the night to talk about music. No hard feelings about the Mace, okay?

Mr. Mute Bigamist: You did keep it interesting. I would see you in Apt. A with wife #1 in the morning and watch you retire in the evening with wife #2 in Apt. B. Amazing! Then every evening at 6 p.m., you'd stand on the front porch, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarrette. I often wondered how you did it, but you never spoke to me. I joined you on that porch many a evening, only for you to smoke and sip in silence. I made it my mission to get you to speak to me, but I never heard even a simple 'hello' pass your lips. Now I know why. I saw the eviction notice that was taped on Apt. A for all to see. I never saw wife #1 again and you have no choice but to live in Apt. B with wife #2. I'm so sorry. If I knew how hard things were for you, I would have bought you some cigarrettes myself. Or at least found you a replacement wife.

The Divorce': I hate to break it to you, my dear neighbor, but that's what you are. I've lived next door to you for a year and you've lived here at least another year longer than that. Your story has been that you and your wife are separated and you're staying here until you guys can figure things out. After such a long time period apart, it's safe to say wifey has moved on. You should be counting your blessings. Just last November you were telling me how glad you were to celebrate Thanksgiving alone, since you didn't have to cook for anyone for once. And who has to listen to your random curses at 2 a.m. or your loud phone conversations with wifey? Me! Yes, the walls are that thin. Do yourself a favor and sign the divorce papers. The only one losing sleep over this marriage is you.

Mr. Universe: My life wouldn't be complete without you, you sexy stud of a man. There's nothing like coming home from work and seeing all 250 plus pounds of you, shirtless and spread out on the couch with the blinds wide open to the parking lot. I've come to admire the way you can drink beer and turn the remote at the same time. Such skill, such agility! No matter what the weather is, you're always sweating. I love the way the beads of sweat dangle in the center of your chest hair, right between your man breasts, with no place to go. I wanted to stare at you longer today, but your wife sent me a dirty look. Sigh. All the good ones are taken.

I think that sums up all the memorable characters. I can't wait to learn about the people in my new building so I can post about them.

(Photo courtesy of