Life in Da Hood

YAY! for getting so trashed you take off your pants and pee in public!

You know the saying, "It takes all kinds." And that other saying - "Different strokes for different folks." It really is true, you know. It would be a boring world if we were all the same... or at least that's what my mom says.

I've had all kinds of neighbors. I had the 40-something wannabe rock star living downstairs and sleeping with a woman and her daughter at the same time. I've had the Chinese neighbors living above their Chinese restaurant next-door to me who used to hang skinned animals off of a laundry rack on their deck to "dry" (and be swarmed by flies.) I had the pervert Vietnam vet who gave me a drive-by hickey, the slightly mentally disabled couple that had me fix their computer at least every 2 days because they downloaded so much crap on it, it nearly collapsed and died. I've been everywhere, man. I've been everywhere.

I survived my crazy neighbors by having a warped sense of humor and writing skills. I've started a novel - you should read it. You'd accuse me of making everything up. But there's one type of "neighbor" I can't handle - "ghetto" people.

I live in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and a creek and a huge lake about 5 minutes away. Quiet, peaceful, lovely. Or at least it was... until the Ghetto People moved in.

I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong. This isn't a racial thing (most of them are white anyway) and this isn't an anti-urban thing. My protest has to do with:
-wild parties that go all night
-drunk people peeing in my parking lot
-drugs
-people passing guns around in the parking lot and shooting at stuff in the backyard
-babies screaming for attention while they're parents are busy getting trashed
-beer bottles all over the backyard
-cigarette butts as far as the eye can see

You see, children, it doesn't matter what color you are or where you're from. If you neglect your kids, trash your own home, degrade yourself in public, do drugs and test guns at an apartment complex... that makes you "ghetto." It doesn't matter if you're one of those odd-looking fundamentalist Mormons living out on the prairie with your 27 children and 8 husbands, it still makes you "ghetto." The Christian in me says, "Tell them about Jesus!" The rest of me says, "Please don't kill me!" I think I have a right to be peeved, too. I moved here because it was beautiful and serene. I didn't sign up for a prolonged episode of "Gangland." When I sit on my deck, I want to look at the birdies, not the ciggy butts.

Last night, I was telling my husband how much I want to move, but then I thought about it. I REALLY thought about it. Why move? The crazies follow me everywhere I go! There is no safe place. Crazy people SEEK Julie Fidler. It's like there's an Association of Neighbors Determined to Drive Julie Fidler Insane and they've implanted a tracking chip in my brain so that every time I relocate, they can find me and continue their mission to send me to Bellevue.

So I guess we'll stay here and just learn how to dodge bullets. For now, anyway. My dad is a New Yorker and when I was a kid we always went back to NY to visit my grandparents. I don't know if you've ever been to Yonkers, but you have to drive through the Bronx to get there. You've never seen graffiti until you've driven through the Bronx. Anyway, stopping at a red light in the Bronx was always a treat. As soon as you so much as slowed down to 35mph, you were charged by 3 guys with bloodshot eyes, a bottle of Windex and a Squeegee trying to wash your car for you against your will. Mom always told me to lock my door and not make eye contact. Safe to say that applies to my new neighbors.

(And incidentally, I still don't sit down on public toilet seats and I always flush with my foot. Thanks, Mom.)

The scary thing is... the past 7+ days have been so crazy, I could write an entire novel about that alone, but the Ghetto People are dominating my thoughts. I'm going to have to blog again today if I want to keep my sanity. Unfortunately, little green people could infiltrate the apartment complex and I'd still be thinking about the Ghetto People. They could abduct me and probe me and I'd still listening for guns and rap music.

God, help me love these people. Keep me safe. And please remove the chip from my brain. Pin It