Won't you be my neighbor? Oh, okay, I don't blame you.

In the city, rural, or even countryside atmosphere of land ownership and the "neighborhoods" of the American suburban nuclear family, we have over centuries become accustomed to others living around us. Now there are two sides to this coin. Or maybe it's more complex than this, like 20 sided dice. Let's assume there are good neighbors, and there are bad neighbors, for the sake of brevity. We get a 007, Spy Vs. Spy glimpse into the lives of the people we live around, and vice versa, whether we care to acknowledge this or not. We are always somewhat aware that just maybe someone is watching and formulating opinions about you when you aren't quite anticipating that you are indeed parading in front of a panel of judges.

The reason I bring this up in the first place is what I think my neighbor thinks of me. It all started the first day we moved into our duplex.......I was "dressed up" for the evening, wearing my finest "I'm gonna drink until I face plant into something harder than my skull" outfit. I like to wear "many hats" so to speak, I dress nicely for work and try to look professional, I dress like an angry teenager when I'm going drinking, and I dress very Family Ties if I'm trying to look like a mature adult. Maybe I'm just too paranoid about what others think, but I gauged this situation ahead of time as I was first introduced to my neighbor that same evening. She's a very sweet, mid to late thirties single woman who has two dogs, and I couldn't help but notice that she was wearing a very, very Jesus-y shirt. Now I'm not against organized religion or the people who embrace it until it is crammed down your throat mercilessly, and I didn't get the impression that she was one of these people, and to this day has been nothing but friendly as hell. But part of me knew that my heavy metal, black shirt, house party bound ass was gonna be critiqued.

As of late, I've been too trusting of my puppies when I take them outside, and we normally run into the neighbor and her dogs when they are outside as well, creating a multitude of issues. I would love to trust my dogs without a leash when I take them out for two reasons. It's less work for me, and sometimes I just don't know when the three extra seconds it takes to put one on will be three seconds too long, and I get a steamy hot loaf dropped on me or the carpet. Just about the last ten times I've been out with them, it turns into me yelling like a redneck hillbilly dumb ass at my dogs who just refuse to do their business and take off on me over to her house. I'm sure all the neighbors love this. Here is the conversation I picture in any home around me. "Hey sweetie, that dickhead across the street is outside yelling at his dogs again. You would think he would have figured out to use a leash by now; he's obviously a very gifted young man. Does he ever wear anything besides pajama pants and a wife beater? We know how to pick the good neighborhoods, don't we."

So to my single middle aged friendly neighbor, I'd like to say I'm sorry for being a little retarded. I'm actually a talkative, mature adult, it's just been three months of showing you otherwise, so I'll work on it. To my neighbor across the street, I'd like to say something as well. Yes, I am outside yelling at my dogs again. Yes, I am wearing pajama pants and a wife beater, a lot. Maybe you wouldn't pick up on all the fine details of my daily activities if you would maybe try to find employment, or a gym and a salad.