Monday, April 24, 2006

The hippies next door

This weekend I went out of town to help a friend move and drink some cold beer. Wait, let me rephrase. This weekend I went out of town to drink some cold beer and help a friend move. That's better.

Anyway, at one point in the weekend we talked about the hippies that just moved in next door. I regaled them with stories about the Birkenstocks, the slew of bikes they rode around, their trips into Houston to shop at Whole Foods and their recycling bin that overfloweth.

Little did I know that when I was away they were busy setting up an elaborate system of nylon line all over their back yard. Upon my return I was greeted by Mrs. Hippies panties clearly visible from my back porch. Now, I know what you're wanting to ask..."Aren't hemp panties, umm, well, just a bit itchy?" Apparently, that is precisely the reason why hippies don't shave. They need a protective buffer.

Now I'm all for energy conservation. If the engineers at an American automaker can figure out how to build an SUV with room for 2 dog kennels, a cooler, my weekend luggage AND get 50 miles to the gallon without making the sticker price just a "bargain" for the mathematically challenged, sign me up!

I guess the point I'm trying to make is this: Mr. and Mrs. Hippie, I applaud your efforts with energy conservation, but we heathens don't want to look at your drawers on a Sunday afternoon any more than we want to see your bed sheets on Monday. I could make a phone call and have it removed, but I'll leave that up to the retired couple on the other side of them. Otherwise, at our next Sunday get together I'll ask them just lower it so I don't have to look at it.

Until then, I'll be in the mood to smoke some meat every night. Mmmmm, ribs....


Southern Fried Girl said...

What you could do is go buy some fur pelts and toss them over the fence while you are smoking the meat. They would shit bricks.

Sass said...

eat your sunflower seeds and drink your soy milk like a good boy adam.

Fefa said...

Why not offer them a neighborly gift of patchouli incense, and then address the laundry line issue. Tree huggers are, after all, a reasonable people who deserve respect too.

Omg, I almost believed myself when I said that! I say perch a boombox by the fence blasting Pantera, throw on a mullet wig, stained Pabst t-shirt, boxers and boots, and march on over to let that hairy legged pot head know the box comes down when the laundry line does. Worked for me anyway.