Those Guys

Neighbors… you have them, you are one, often times you don’t like them.

We are “those” neighbors.

The ones that will buy the Girl Scout cookies from those conniving, smiling, vest-wearing, scooter driving, fourth graders that probably already ate half the box, but their cheeks are so damn chubby you have to dish out the money before you squeeze the shit out of them.

The ones that donate to the little rascals handing out school tickets for prizes and even though you know they are pocketing the cash for themselves, you resist saying, “Here ya go ya little fuck,” and instead blurt out, “Here ya go buddy, take my breakfast money.”

We are those neighbors that offer your kids basketball tips and lie loudly and willingly about how reading is the key to success, with the hope that you won’t call the cops on us every time we squeeze 73 people in to our living room.

Those neighbors that make an extra effort to ask how your day went even though we know you’ve hated us ever since we parked that car in your lawn.

We are those neighbors that are asking forgiveness for letting your children play corn hole with us while we are shit faced and for keeping you awake on Thursday nights.

With this being said, Friday is Beer Olympics… prepare yourself.

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