I know you have been waiting for the update on last night.

I see it in my stats. Peeps popping in to see if there is an update.

Well guess what!?

Nothing happened.

The freaks didn’t show up.

Sure, they were around, hiding in their bushes and peeking out their windows, but apparently unless you are in your garden working up a sweat lady like glow, they are not interested in coming out.

Or maybe they were scared. Scared I might confront them.

I contemplated wearing gardening gloves and my garden clogs. Even bringing out the awesomely noisy hedge trimmer to try and flush out rev head man. But thought better of it.

Do I really want to speak to these people? I think not. I am not fluent in bogan nor do I know what to say to someone who’s sole purpose in life is to watch others.

Oh, there were some interesting things that happened. 3 doors down lives a chick from my work. Her son befriended Boo. I coulda diagnosed that kid in 3 seconds of meeting him, so I guess he met a kindred spirit.

Apparently there has been much discussion about how often I leave the house. I considered telling them that I was a crack delivery ho and was just waiting for the giant syringe and pipe to attach to the top of my car. Just like Dominios. But mine is Crack-n-ho’s.

But I didn’t.

I contemplated telling them that my girls are escorts and I was just the taxi.

But I didn’t.

I did ask why on earth anyone would be noticing how often I left the house.

Apparently the freakshows across the road have been keeping tabs. I was unaware that I left the house, on average, 7 times a day.

Well fuck me dead, looks like my carbon footprint aint gunna be reduced by just buying the family smaller shoes…….

There was discussion on why we have a bigger bin than everyone else.

I contemplated telling them I was sleeping with the mayor. Or was supplying him with Bindeez Beads. Or because that is where we hide the bodies.

But I told the truth. It is because Boo is still in nappies.

‘Oh,’ they said ‘OK’, read that-kid-is-worse-than-we-thought.

They all feigned ignorance when I apologised for the screaming in the middle of the night. Apparently no one hears Boo’s blood curding screams. Or his salsa music, Bohemian Rhapsody or Hi-5 all played at 3am while he is painting his walls in shit and toothpaste.

But they notice when I leave the house, they know I like to turn the music up (no where near the levels of Boo in full flight) when I am ALONE , how the fuck do they know when I am alone? Oh that is right they are fucking monitoring my every move…. and that we keep ‘late hours’.

But no-one notices when Boo screams.

Honestly, they all seemed pretty nice. But I don’t know why they are keeping tabs on me.

They should be keeping tabs on the young couple that moved in recently. She is no more than 19, Moo knows her from school, and how the hell did they afford to buy that house?

Methinks SHE is the one supplying the mayor with Bindeez Beads.

You know them….. previously seen in such posts as:

Letter to my neighbours….

and

Bugger off will ya?

If you have not read these posts before, click on them to catch up.

It’s OK, we will wait……..

A few weeks ago a strange looking couple came to my door. It was 8pm, a bit late for the Jehovahs Witness suits, but they were clutching trifold papers. So I opened the door ready to give them a piece of my mind for interrupting my TV time.

Turns out they were my neighbours. Who would have thought that he survived all this time and he actually had a wife with hair the colour of Santa’s suit?

They were inviting us to a Block Christmas Party.

‘Now we know that Boo has dietary issues, so just let me know what he likes to eat and I will get it’

I gave her a dark look. What the FUCK? I have never seen this woman before, I thought her husband was dead in front of the television for Christs sake, and she knows that Boo has ‘dietary issues’ and HIS FUCKING NAME?

‘How do you know that?’ I start scanning the ceiling for bugs or video cameras and my mind races back to the times when there were no kids in the house and it was just me and Mario-porn-star……. OMG!!!!

‘Oh we know Sue and we drove her out to your parents house a few weeks ago to pick up the oven….. Your mother is such a wonderful woman with everything she does for you and surviving breast cancer and caring for your father…….’

Oh PUL-EEEESE!!!!

So tonight we finally get to meet our neigbours. The ones mentioned previously, the new family across the road (next door to the freaks) the chick down the road who it turns out is in charge of approving Boo’s funding, the freaky goth who used to go to school with Moo, and the old bloke who apparently owns half the block.

And there will be alcohol. And cricket.

I will update later. Should make for an interesting post methinks.

Christmas is approaching. We are getting into the spirit and planning the decos so this means the garden needs to be spruced up first.

Firstly I will say, I hate gardening with a passion. I would rather have root canal, cause at least then you get drugs and don’t have people looking at you like you are a freak and saying ‘But I love root canal!’

If you love gardening, turn away….

Are they gone?

Are you sure?

If you like gardening you are freaking weird.

OK!!! You can come back now!

Anyway, I am out there with the only thing that makes it all worth while. Power tools. A big hulking hedge trimmer that makes me want to get a hockey mask and chase my children around the house.

So I get the best done first – no delayed gratification for this chicky babe – and then I look up.

I have an audience.

You guessed it. The freaky neighbours have set up fucking CAMP across the road. Sitting on a rug under the tree, sipping Pina-freakin-colada’s for all I know.

With a rake laying on the ground.

Oh, yeah, I believe you.

You FREAKS!

I ignore them.

A car pulls up in their driveway. Someone gets out. AND SITS DOWN!

WTF?

What is so freaking entertaining about a chick weeding her garden? It is not as if I am wearing a bikini or short shorts or something (trust me, that will never happen. OMG, Greenpeace would be on my doorstep wondering how I got so far inland) I am wearing a very loose tshirt, 3/4 yoga pants and gardening clogs. Fashionista I am not. Bag lady perhaps.

I go inside for a while to get out of the hot sun and the glare of the freakazoids. They hang around for a while, the guy gets in his car and leaves and I contemplate whether it is safe to go back outside.

Yeah, I would rather clean up Boo’s fecal murals than go back out and garden, but I haul my arse out there.

Guess what? Oh yes, my lovely internets, they come back out.

I finish what I am doing, flip them the bird and go back inside.

So much for neighbourly love, they are off my Christmas card list now. Unless Boo still wants to make a pipe bomb…….

Now excuse me I need a shower, I stink.

This seems to be a continual theme in my life, so I created a whole new catergory for it! See? Over there in the sidebar? Oh, how I wish it wasn’t necessary….

First of all I need to explain the layout of our home. It is a relatively large place, but the majority of its largeness is centered in the living areas and the bathroom (yeah, what’s the deal with that! The previous owners in their wisdom thought, hey lets make the bathroom HUGE with a 3 person spa that is a pain in the arse to clean, with enough room around it to swing an elephant but the master bedroom so small that you can barely open the door when you chuck a queen sized bed in there) and the bedrooms are all squished down one end.

Our room is at the end, Boo’s room across the hall and then Too’s and then, finally Moo’s. Then down the hallway to the largeness of the living areas. Our bedroom window faces the neighbours lounge. So not much privacy, ifyouknowwhatImean, nudge nudge wink wink.

Anyway, after last nights conversation with the FIA girls about House starting back on Wednesday (Corr!!! Oh Hugh Laurie as House…..) Anthony the Blue Wiggle and Harrison Ford, and the prospect of DH starting back at work on Monday, I was feeling rather, ahem, amorous…..

With Boo sleeping (YEESSSS!!!) and Too away for the weekend, we took the opportunity to perform our marital duties. Now this could possibly be toooooo much information, but it is an important part of my sorry tale. I am not the quietest of people in these situations. What can I say? It’s a gift. A gift that DH is thankful for, especially to the guy that I keep talking to throughout……

So after a lovely nights sleep, I wander out of bed and sit down with a cuppa to read my bloglines.

Moo wanders out and looks at DH.

‘What time did you go to bed last night?’

‘Oh, about 3, I couldn’t sleep so I came out to watch TV for a while so I didn’t disturb your mother’ NOTHING would have disturbed me, I was sleeping the sleep of the dead exhausted *snigger* and snoring like a truck changing gears….. apparently.

‘I couldn’t sleep either’ dark look at DH ‘ I went to sleep around 2’

*choke*

I stare at my keyboard, not seeing the words swimming before me. I compose myself.

‘Why couldn’t you sleep, babe?’ I cooly ask. Well I hope it was cooly…..

‘Oh cause I slept in yesterday, so I stayed up reading.’ She is not looking me in the eye.

Trying desperately to save face. ‘You really shouldn’t spend that long with your Ipod in you know, it will hurt your ears’ Please, please GOD! Please tell me you had your Ipod on!!!

‘Nah, I wasn’t listening to my Ipod’.

Shit.

She leaves the room.

I turn to DH in absolute horror. ‘Do you think she heard us?’ I whisper

DH (the negative form) snickers. ‘You were pretty loud. I expect the neighbours will bring us a fruit basket as thanks for the night time entertainment’

Shit.

Excuse me while I go back and hide in that cupboard.

But while I am there, please PLEASE someone share their equally embarrassing tale of getting caught out by children, especially teens, to make me feel a little bit better? Gunna have to wear those red heels all week to compliment the shade of my face.

I have mentioned before about my neighbours. Here is a little highlight of the ones that acknowledge me. The others never seem to be home….. or they are hiding.

Next door right: Wave hello as driving away. He likes to rev up hotted up cars at all hours of the day or night. They got married recently and the wedding car was a ute. Noice.

Oh and I accidentally called the wife a ‘biatch’ really really loudly. See this post for the full details.

Across the road: Set up lawn chairs in their driveway whenever we have a kids party or sleepover. Lawn chairs and a table when we moved in. Always seem to need to check their letterbox, weed the garden, pick up a twig/leaf from the lawn when we are greeting or saying goodbye to visitors. Yes we have a lot of visitors. But they stay waaaaaay too long for this to be a crack house.

Next door left: Weeded his garden for 2 straight days while we were moving in. Haven’t seen him since. Heart attack while watching cable? The mail isn’t piling up so probably just scared of us. I would be.

Dear neighbours,

I feel that we haven’t had the chance to get to know each other. If this was suburban America a la every-freaking-sitcom-drama-we-see someone would have baked some muffins for us by now. We have been here for a year, you don’t have to grow the wheat and stone grind it yourself, a packet mix will suffice.

We are a noisy family. Not as noisy as SOME, but we produce our fair share. Most of the noise is screaming from our son. You know him. The kid that did all those nudie runs before we plugged the hole in the fence? Oh and the kid that laid spread eagled in your driveway, Mr Revhead, wearing nothing but a tshirt and a vacant smile. Spongebob Squarepants was the song of choice that day, in case you were wondering. Well he has Autism and that is just part and parcel of who he is. He is almost 9 so his voice should break in a couple of years so the squeal won’t be so high pitched and frighten the dogs. Something to look forward to huh?

We have some weird and wonderful equipment in our backyard. There is no need to fret about our property backing on to a childcare centre, the equipment is actually doctor approved therapy equipment for the Sponge bob singing, dirt angel in the driveway making, nudist you met earlier. Not anything to do with S&M. Honest. Oh and sorry to the kid that was playing on the platform swing when we weren’t home and left their polly pocket on the ground. It kinda slipped out of my hand and I accidentally smashed it to pieces and then it fell in the garbage bin. I am amazed how you managed to scale the kid proof fence or actually OPEN THE CHILD LOCK. Pure child genius. Tell mummy and daddy to get you tested for Mensa.

We do have quite a few visitors. Actually you are lucky we didn’t live here when our youngest was still in intensive one on one therapy! Wow, we had a shit load of visitors then! I just want to ease your worry and let you know that we don’t sell crack or wacky tobakky or GOD FORBID, Amway……

Mr Stand-in-your-driveway-smoking-all-the-day-and-night,

My daughter is a pretty girl. So are her friends. YOU are a man in his forties living with his parents. Stop. Oh and while we are on the subject, I don’t need an audience – yes I can see you behind the bushes – while I am weeding the garden. It is getting quite feral out there, so here is your warning, I will be out there again soon. You need to be somewhere else, capisce?

We are good people. A mum, dad, 2 teenage girls and a highly individual boy.

You would like us if you gave us half a chance. Lots of people do, hence the many cars coming in and out of our driveway. How about we have a BBQ some time. No pressure. Just a simple Hello Kelley when I pass you next will be affirmation enough for me.

Kindest regards,

Kelley at number X

On second thoughts I might just start with a Christmas Card in Decemeber.

Whatcha think?