Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About

My house isn't too popular within my neighborhood. While we have a handful of neighbor friends, we get the cold shoulder from the majority. I don't blame them necessarily: our lawn hasn't always been in the best condition, we have dogs that used to relieve themselves in other people's gardens, and since we've had as many as eight people living here, that has meant owning just as many cars, which I suppose could be an "unsightly" amount for some. The biggest offense was when Shea was operating a biodiesel company without a permit from our garage. He collected used vegetable oil from restaurants and stored it in a truck, which went down without a hitch until one night it all leaked out. In the morning, the road was flooded with veggie oil, which the police deemed a legitimate "oil spill" and "biohazard." Oops.

We're good people, though. We may be younger and slightly less domesticated, but we're still polite, respectful, and predominately quiet. For this reason, it irritates me that a few neighbors really seem to have it out for us. They call the police to complain about the state of our yard, the presence of "mysterious" vehicles that we own, storing aluminum cans for the sake of recycling, and a few other assorted incidents that have amounted to nothing other than a visit from some officers who ultimately leave having nothing to even warn us about. On a couple of occasions, the police even apologize and explain that we've done nothing wrong, but their policy is to respond to every call. 'Tever!

While we don't know for sure who anonymously calls the police, we have reason to believe that the people in the house across the street levy at least some of the complaints given the other snippy comments they've made toward us and the occasions on which we have caught them spying on us from their windows. As I see it, they're older individuals without much to do, so if they want to invent some sort of rivalry with us, I'll just continue to smile and wave to be the bigger person.

Oh, but I'll also be a little passive aggressive. Our neighbors have recently put up an Obama-Biden sign in their yard. Being in favor of those candidates, I don't have a problem with it, but I can't help but feel if we were the ones putting up a potentially controversial sign, the police would wind up at our door. Also, look whose lawn is dying now, hypocrites.

This past weekend, my friends and I got hammered drunk while viewing Burn After Reading at the theater. It was great. Or rather I think it was great, I know I was drunk. In a way, it's all the same. On our trek back from the theater, we passed a sign posted on a street corner that reads: "Single? Claremontdating.COM" It made me laugh, so I wanted it, and helped myself. Arriving home, I stuck it in our yard, across from the Obama signage. This act would be my obnoxious counter-move toward my neighbors. You can't complain about a sign when you have a sign in your own yard, right? I envisioned the steam coming from my neighbors' ears. Our lawn might be green again, but now they'd have a new reason to resent looking across the street at our property.

In the light of day, I have a new perspective toward the sign. While still funny, it's actually remarkably tacky. By posting this sign in our yard, we're also making a lot of implications about ourselves, none of which are particularly positive. This act is spiteful, however, so I'm willing to degrade myself a bit for a small victory in this war. I eagerly await having the police arrive over this matter and citing us with some residential violation. That'll give me an excuse to take down the disgraceful sign and plan a newer, better counterattack!

You know, I might need a hobby, too.