So far we've had a pretty uneventful Christmas.
We visited Karen's parents for a couple of days, and now are chilling at home with Karen, who doesn't go back to work for another week. I've been helping Karen paint the kitchen and dining room. (Help in this case means sitting in a chair by the back door sunning while Karen curses and screams while attempting to remove the SIX layers of wallpaper behind the refrigerator.)
Not much to write home about right?
That is, until last night:
Thus, Sadie, Karen, and I would like to share a story straight from White Trash Theater.
In its original form this story contained a significant amount of profanity. Since many of my readers are surfing at work, I have decided to remove the profain language.
However, if I were your boss I'd fire your lazy ass. I'm not paying you people to goof around on the computer.
That being said, I'm not paying you at all. So please continue to read my blog.
Anyway, back to White Trash Theatre
As you know we live in redneck Hell, meaning if we walk to the end of the alley leading to the street we can see a line of fireworks stands up for your enjoyment between Christmas and New Years (and a couple of days afterwards). Karen hates the firework stands for a variety of reason I've mentioned in previous posts (for more information on this subject, see http://penelopeandsadie.blogspot.com/2007/07/redneck-hell-and-skanks-who-live-here.html). Anyway, the stands are up and once again it sounds likes Afghanistan out in our neck of the woods.
But that's besides the point.
Karen, Sadie and I were on the way home from Karen's parents when the SUV driving in front of us came to a sudden stop. The driver got out of the car and walked to the side. Karen, a curious sort, rolled down her window to hear what was going on:
SUV Driver: What the Hell are you doing?
At this point we see that he is talking to a blonde woman, about 38ish, wearing a sea foam green tube top and denim shorts.
Tube Top: I'm standin' here (Here being the middle of a two lane street in which people drive roughly 50 mph.)
SUV Driver: You're in the middle of the street.
Tube Top: I can stand wherever I want.
At this point, Karen realizes that to her right, on the shoulder of the road, a group of people have set up a makeshift party in front of a fireworks stand. Of course, this party appeared to include alcohol.
SUV Driver: Get the (expletive) out of the road.
Tube Top: Watch your(same expletive) language you cheap bastard.
I have no idea how Tube Top knew this man was a "cheap bastard". Perhaps they were high school sweethearts back at Choate Rosemary, got engaged senior year at Harvard and broke up due to SUV Driver being a "cheap bastard", thus causing Tube Top to, well, become Tube Top, who now resorts to drinking on the side of the road outside a fireworks stand.
Next was just a bunch of screaming and yelling about "you can't be in the street" and "yes I can", sprinkled with the occasional expletive used in a variety of formats. Isn't it amazing how that word (and we all know to which word I am referring) can be used in a myriad of ways?
Anyway . . .
Oddly enough none of Tube Top's buddies came to her defense. They starred at the exchanged, just as I did, shook their heads, and began pouring a substance from a bottle into a variety of paper cups.
Karen, in defense of SUV Driver (and because she really just wanted to go home), honked her horn. In return SUV Driver flips off Karen.
Cheap and Classy
At this point there are two cars behind Karen. A police car was not too far away (probably needed to bring fireworks home to the kiddoes) and pulled around Karen's car to see the live action for himself. At this moment, the Boone's Farm tasting group is collecting their products very quickly and heading off into the night (or in the direction of the fireworks stand) with a Budweiser cooler in tow.
Police Officer: What the Hell is going on here?
SUV Driver: She won't get out of road.
Police Officer: Get out of the road.
Tube Top: I don't have to!
Police Officer: You do unless you want to go with me.
Tube Top: You can't arrest me that's against my constitutional rights.
I'm no lawyer, but did Thomas Jefferson plan to protect drunk woman wearing tube tops in December from being arrested for standing in the middle of the street? Interesting constitutional debate . . .
Police Officer: I have too much to do to stand around here and handle this petty (expletive-- means fecal matter). Get out of the road now or I'm cuffing you.
Tube Top got out of the road.
Police Officer headed off.
SUV Driver got back into his car.
Karen drove home.
END OF ACT ONE
Karen is sitting in the living room reading a book. Sadie is-- I don't know where Sadie is, it doesn't matter. I'm hanging out in the entry hall.
Karen looks through the peep hole, sighs, and opens the door. Tube Top is standing on her porch.
Tube Top (kind of swaying): Did you just get home?
Karen: (pausing) Yes
Tube Top: Did you see that man hit me?
Karen: Who hit you?
Tube Top: That man in the Explorer.
(Actually it was a Tahoe-- but who cares)
Karen: No I didn't see him hit you.
Tube Top: Well he hit me.
Karen: I'm sorry.
Tube Top: I'll split the money with you if you change your mind about what you saw.
Karen: That's OK. I'd rather not perjure myself. I'll see you later.
And Karen shuts the door.
END OF PLAY
We are hoping to move before summer. I don't think we'll ever have neighbors like these again.
Thanks for the memories, Redneck Hell.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!