That’s what I am. My friends from the pool, who are always thoroughly entertained by my stories, want to know why I get all the strange neighbors. Just lucky, I guess.

To be honest, I’ve been very lucky most of my life to have always had “good neighbors”. You know – neighbors that are friendly, law-abiding citizens. If you’re lucky (and I have been), you can even have neighbors that become lifelong friends. But for the last few years, I’m beginning to wonder what I’ve done to “neighbors past” that would warrant my Karma to pull an about face on me.

For the last two or three years, up until last May, I had what I lovingly referred to as the “Drug Dealer Neighbors Next Door”. They were a creepy, suspicious bunch. They sat out in their cars day in and day out eyeballing you if you had the nerve to exit your residence. Strange cars would frequent the parking lot in very short intervals “visiting” said neighbors. The boom boom music was just a nice bonus. It was also a standing joke about their “musical license plates” on their cars. They changed like I change my underwear.

July 4th weekend a year ago, main Drug Dealer dude got arrested . . . right out in front of my house. He was parked next to my Jeep and the policeman was walking around his car peering inside because he couldn’t search it without a warrant since it was on private property. What I wanted him to notice was that the license plate on the front of the car did NOT match the license plate on the rear of the car. (Dude did this all the time)

These dudes made me uncomfortable for years. But finally, one Sunday in May, they were evicted. Yippee Skippee!! I started singing “The Drug Dealers Are Gone! The Drug Dealers Are Gone!” I could now water my flowers all summer long without being glared at like “I” was the criminal.

SO, with big sigh of relief, I thought, “After the scary Drug Dealers, how bad can the new neighbors be?” ***screeeeech*** Enter some rotten Karma for me talking smack about the drug dealers. Karma said, “I’ll show YOU!” Yep, new neighbors finally moved in. . . and they are interesting to say the least.

I went from the “Drug Dealer Next Door Neighbors” to “The Weirdos”. Or sometimes, I refer to the younger one as “Stevie Wonder” even though he’s not black. (I’ll explain that one later) And they have a horse dog that they keep out on the tiny 10′ x 10′ patio. I refer to the dog as “King Kong”. (It’s a Saint Bernard with a massive head the size of Texas) You see, I give everyone a name until I meet them and get an actual name. It’s how my brain works.

Okay. One dude is just a rude redneck with no personality and a gunrack in his oversized pickup truck, hence his new name “Rude Dude”. His little brother (both are grown men), who lives with him, is the one that’s. . . . . touched. I’m pretty certain he suffers from some serious social anxiety issues.

Set scenario: Younger dude was taking the dog out of the patio when I walked by. I said, “So YOU’RE the new neighbor!” and introduced myself. He said NOTHING. So me being me trying to escape the awkwardness, asked what the dog’s name was. He robotically told me his name – one word – that’s it. The whole time we were standing there, he was smiling strangely and staring up in the sky to my left as if I were standing BESIDE myself and I was 12 feet tall. I was staring at him quizically like “Is this guy blind?” “Is this his Seeing Eye Dog?” My brain was asking and answering itself at warp speed deducing that Weirdo Dude is neither blind or in need of a Seeing Eye Dog. He is, in fact, just ODD.

After an uncomfortable length of time getting nowhere with neighborly plesantries, I politely excused myself. I didn’t think a whole lot about it at the time, just that he sure must be shy. But then I’ve watched other neighbors approach him and it’s the same thing. People see a short white dude, seemingly harmless, but it’s really like Stevie Wonder they’re talking to with the way he tilts his head and stares blankly up to the side smiling a weird half smile like he’s not sure what he’s smiling AT or whether he’s secretly plotting to murder you in your sleep for bothering him.

Weird. I want to know what the property manager’s application looks like for that condo. In regarding the previous two tenants, this is what I imagine that my next door’s application for a two bedroom condo looks like:

Do you have a criminal record? Yes No
Have you ever been committed to a mental institution? Yes No
Are you gainfully employed? Yes No
Have you ever been evicted from a rental residence? Yes No
Do you have any pets larger than 50 lbs.? Yes No
Do you agree to follow the rules set by the condo association? Yes Hell No

Bingo! You’re approved! You are now the proud new tenants of a fabulous new condo. Go forth and creep out as many neighbors as you can. . . until someone comes and takes you away.