A sure sign of the apocolypse. Or maybe that it’s time to move.

So I’m looking out the sliders the other day, watching untitleddog pinch off a fatty on the grass I’d just pooper scooped, when what do I see? The neighborlady. In her backyard. Holding a giant mirror. And scissors.

Oh, the treachery. She was cutting her hair, errr, her MULLET, in her backyard with what looked like a pair of hedge trimmers.

Now, may I take this chance to remind you that this here is the suburbs. And here in the burbs, we got us some standards. We only park two jet skis in the driveway at any given time. We refrain from letting our kids pee in the daylillies, no matter how many PBR’s they’ve had. And godblessit, we limit the number of NASCAR flags to no more than three per residence (with an exception, of couse, on the day the racing died). Surely there is something in our covenant about convening a barber shop in your backyard.

Now I’ve seen some twisted shit out my back door, including a boy dressed as a collegiate cheerleader beating down another boy dressed as Darth Maul, a man pouring drums of Round Up on his lawn, and a lady showing her new titty piercing to her neighbor. But this here was crossing all lines of decency and decorum.

As she stood there, grooming her surly locks in front of all tarnation, I tried to look away. But damn it all if I didn’t have a primal need to see this storyline through to the end. I wondered if she was going to give herself a Dorothy Hamill. Sporting a mullet of that thickness and fortitude, I hypothesized on the possibility of her ability to carry off the greatest haircut of all — the Gumby.

It would be an understatement to say I was disappointed upon seeing that alas, she was only giving herself a trim. But she upped the weirdness quotient in the end, gathering her shearings in a mixing bowl and scattering them around her flowers and shrubs in what appeared to be some sort of Wiccan sacrifice. In a conversation a few weeks later, a much less romantic plot was revealed. Turns out that she was simply trying to deter rabbits from her garden.

I considered putting a Cost Cutters gift certificate and a bottle of rabbit repellant in her mailbox. Anything to prevent the image of future cuttings from burning untitledson’s developing corneas. I would’ve documented the carnage, if only my bastard camera hadn’t been broken ($300 I’ll never get back, thanks to the thieving jackals at Best Buy). But the summer’s just getting started, people. The rabbits have only begun to multiply. And one of these days, momma’s going to need a new do.

15 thoughts on “A sure sign of the apocolypse. Or maybe that it’s time to move.”

  1. OH. MY. GAWD.

    The fear of buying a house and having that as a neighbor has just become very overwhelming!!!

  2. So what’s worse–your neighbor lady spreading hair around the garden or poor, poor me having to see my tall, thin, naturally blonde-haired, blue-eyed neighbor from Estonia out in her backyard in a bikini. She has three children under five, the youngest less than a year old, and she looks fabulous in that healthy, natural, the gods-have-blessed-my-booty-and-boobies way.

    Show me the mullet people! Life’s not fair!

  3. We once lived in a small condo that had a wonderful garden tended by inmates, one of whom was a serious gardener. She would go to the barbershop and get clippings to sprinkle around to keep the groundhogs out. You have to do it every 3-4 days, after it rains, after strong winds…

    There really is no commercial product that works any better than hair or cayenne pepper. Everything has to be applied frequently. It’s better to get a BB gun.

  4. In the apartment the husband and I shared prior to kids, we used to listen to the following operatic stylings of Neighbor & Dog (all night long):

    Dog: Arrroooooooooo
    Neighbor: “Shut that –!”
    Dog: Aroooooooooooooooooooo!
    Neighbor: “Shut that –!”
    Dog: Aroooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
    Neighbor: “Shut that fuckin’ dog UP!”
    Dog: Woof-woof-woof-woof-woof!

    Good times were had by all.

  5. You know, I really must stop reading this blog at work — it’s awfully hard to explain why I’m laughing out loud nearly to the LMAO stage when I’m supposed to be reading and interpreting spread sheets. Now my coworkers want to know why their interpretations of said spread sheets don’t cause nearly the hysteria.

    ibeejd, I was lucky enough to get a neighborhood scouting report/preview of exactly what kind of cromagnon inbreds I would be living next to, should I have decided to buy a house that I was by then giving a third look. I was told, “Me and Sister has been in this house for nigh onto 50 years, and we’s both on disability. This is a real nice neighborhood, except for the (whispers with hand over mouth) buh-LACKS that live acrost the street. They’s drug dealers. But you’ll fit in jiss fine here. The lady on the other side of yore house is on disability, too. We’ll all visit back and forth and have a big time. We’ll all be the best of friends. We just have to watch out for them drug dealers, ya know, the buhLACKS. Your septic tank leaks into my yard, you hear? I don’t want no trouble.” I told her that not all blacks are drug dealers and not all drug dealers are black. My friends were holding me back and I was muttering under my breath to them, “Get me out of here NOW.” I told the listing agent that if she ever hoped to sell that house, she’d better show it late at night when the neighbors wouldn’t be around! Although I knew I wasn’t going to buy that house, or even live in it if it were a gift, I fantasized having a house-warming party and inviting every non-WASP person I knew, and the more tattooes and piercings and dreadlocks they had, the better. Of course, I would have been forced to introduce one of said guests as my husband!

    Anne

  6. I brush my American Eskimo Dog outside on the deck, and I leave his fluffy white fur out there so the birds and squirrels to use in their nests. One time I did this and my crazy neighbor gathered it up, put it in a bag, and tied it to my deck with twine. Now I leave the fur out there because I know it annoys her.

    My neighbor also rides around her yard on her zero-turning-radius mower, clad in hair curlers and a shiny orange polyester muu muu. She also has a pair of purple polyester pants (and a coordinating polyester floral print top) that she dons when she has to do any bending or stooping. No better way to start the day than spying your neighbor’s big purple butt through the chain link.

  7. OMG I did this YESTERDAY. Honest. Not a full trim, but I took some scissors and lopped off a chunk of annoying hair while I was standing on my front porch. I just could not stand this surly wild curl one more minute. And then I left the hair out for the birdies, who are nesting right now.

    I didn’t think about it being low-class. Of course low class people never do LOL. And I live in an extremely low class neighborhood anyway (think couches on the front porch) so I suppose I was just adapting to my surroundings.

    Hell, maybe this weekend I will set up a chair in the driveway and offer trims for $5 to passers-by.

    Wow, Mel, that is one psycho neighbor. Gathering dog fur. Gotta love people.

  8. untitled, I wonder what your new neighbors will be like? Have you scouted the ‘hood? Will you have some space between you and the neighbors?
    My next house will be in the country. I don’t want to see one little square of a neighbor’s house. We currently have the couple from hell next door – fights most weekends (they give beer drinking a bad name!) and the annual Halloween night, “Iā€™ma keeel you!” knife threat.
    Good times…good times.

  9. Siiting in my hotel in Philly, laughing my ass off. This is why I read this blog. Lets see mnore of this excellent writting in the future. The continuing saga of this neighbor would be well worth the wait.

  10. Surveilling your prospective neighbourhood (I can spell, I am Canadian!) seems like a smart idea.
    And, if you want to deter critters without those pesky hair clippings, may I heartily recommend a sprinkling of human Pee around the perimeter? Male Pee is best, as their appendage conveniently adapts to those 2 litre bottles. (No need for a funnel when you have the appendage šŸ˜‰
    Supply untiltled males with plenty beer and they will be happy to oblige, especially if you make a contest of it.
    Remember to reapply after a rain.
    That is the best critter deterrent of all.

  11. My husband FREAKS when I brush my bunny rabbit outside (who the fuck wants rabbit fluff in the house?!?) and let the fur blow away…., he actually raked it up the other day! I, too, think it’s fine for the birds to use it in their nests and I have a gigantic yard so I don’t know why the sight of it offends him so much. I was surprised he was mellow the other night when I used the dog groomer to clip my dog’s fur outside (too hot for fur coats right now and she’s got a LOT of fur!) ‘Course he was drunk and I think he wanted me to think he wasn’t so much….,

    Human pee really works? I’m having big problems with chipmunks right now. Thought about some used kitty litter but don’t want to smell it myself! Have used Fox Urine but it’s expensive and I have to send away for it…., Can you imagine collecting THAT?!?!

  12. I know this is totally inappropriate, but I giggled when I thought of notaclue “brushing her bunny” outside. I’m sorry; I’m a 12-year old boy sometimes.

    In addition, we are the trashy neighbors…go us!

    Carry on.

  13. My street is the part of the rich people neighborhood where the lower-middle class houses are. They are all the same, with alternating colours, of course, but we, too, have interesting neighbors. Up the street, there is a house full of loud college boys up the street and on the weekends, when they get REALLY drunk, they play truth or dare and run up and down the street chasing cars alternating the articles of clothing they remove. Up the street and in the culdesac is the couple who dress up like Liza Minelli and David whats-his-name after they get frat-boy drunk at Halloween. Our neighbors on the left, Mr and Mrs Next Door, who hang out in their garage and wait for me and my sister to drop something, a basketball or something, into their driveway and then yell at us to get off their lawn. Mrs Up the Street used to have a miniatur schnauzer who would run back and forth in her tiny yard for hours. At my dad’s house, his nieghbors across the street had that green stuff on their yard that grows grass (probably grass seed) and I fell off my bike into it and left a Kelsey-shaped grass-less area next to their mailbox. My dad tried to fix it with a rake before they got home but it didn’t really work. Plus, I spent two weeks trying to wash grass seed out of my knee. Ahh, neighborly love :]

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