Well, One of Us Is Crazy

Hi there! I haven't been kidnapped or anything, if you guys were worried at all.  If I ever do pop up on a milk carton though, you can ask our newly crazy face neighbor where he hid the body.  I kid.  Sort of.  I'm pretty sure he'll let me live.  I would love to elaborate on the situation, but, here's something funny about me:  I like to think I'm much more important than I actually am. 

It's not that I necessarily think I'm hot shit or anything, but I always think my actions are going to have a MUCH bigger impact than they actually will.  Especially any 'negative' actions. 

My much talked complained about jury duty from the other week? Lots of people I talked to had fool proof ways to get out of it that they've used before, but I just couldn't bring myself to try any of them.  Even more people said they just never show up and have yet to suffer any consequences.  It says very plainly on that pesky little piece of mail that showed up at my house that they can put you in jail for that shit.  Now, do they actually enforce that punishment? According to all of my friends enjoying their freedom, no, but they have to make an example out of somebody, right?  Might as well be me.  Scratch that, it DEFINITELY would have been me.

I also couldn't bring myself to lie after I was dumb enough to actually show up to jury duty so I would be excused.  I just knew this was a 'Runaway Jury' type situation and somebody in that room knew everything about me and they would know I was lying and again, I would go to jail.  (P.S. You should watch that movie, it's my favorite.) 

I'm insane.  I know.  Don't worry, it gets better.

Joey and I are hardcore believers in 'pooping and scooping'.  You step in dog shit enough, you do your best to make sure somebody else doesn't suffer the way you have.  The other day, I got Joey's leash out to take her on a walk, and I guess her excitement rubbed off on me, because I completely forgot to grab a bag.  So, I had no way to pick up her poop.  Any normal person would have just shrugged their shoulders and went on about their business.  Me?  First, I looked over my should about eight times to make sure I didn't have to explain myself to anybody.  Then, when Joey and I got home, I grabbed a bag, walked about a mile back to the scene of the crime, and removed the 'evidence'.  The entire time I was walking, I just knew I was going to find somebody waiting there to yell.  Either a cop, or a neighborhood watchman taking his job a little too seriously, I just knew it.  Of course, there was just a pile of shit there.  I got away with it, this time. 

One time, I thought I backed into a car in a parking lot.  I got out, checked out both cars, and realized I had actually just backed over a traffic cone, and got in my car and left.  The farther away a drove, the less convinced I was that I just backed over a cone.  Maybe I did actually hit the car and the damage was so minor that I just didn't notice it, but the owner would.  I spent the next week refusing to drive my car anywhere in case there was somebody out there who witnessed me not hit a car and wrote down my license plate number.  Seriously, stayed home, refused to open my door.  Six years later, nobody has come a-knockin'.  Turns out, running over a traffic cone and NOT hitting a car doesn't exactly earn you prime time coverage on America's Most Wanted.  Who knew?

So, in my mind, if I were to rant and rave about said neighbor, and since he obviously would end up reading this, he would come knock on my door and punch me in the face.  I have no problem shooting him my dirtiest look over the fence, but I'm not ready for hand to hand combat.  I had a lot of gelato last night and I'm not too quick on my feet today. 

Feel free to ask me all about it though, I love to talk.  Just ask everybody.