My Beloved Neighbors, Part 2... The House on the right.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my neighbors who live in the house on my left… the gay frat boys…

Yes, yes, my sister Kay is still complaining… A few days a week I have to hear her chime

“Lee, they were outside trippin’ last night!”

But my neighbors to the right?

They are the complete antithesis of the frat boys…

Oh they are homosexual, just like a good percentage of my intown neighborhood…

But they are a nice, quiet, loving Caucasian couple. I will call them “Paul” and “Stan”.

And the funny thing is that they look just alike. It is almost as if they said, when they became a couple: “Hey, let’s go get our heads shaved so we will look just alike.”

So it is difficult to tell them apart. Instead of me yelling “Hey Paul” or “Hey Stan!” I just wave and yell…

“Hey!”

I always hear a nice “Hi ya, Ladylee!!”

I know one thing: they have busted up any of the traditional stereotypes I’ve had about gay couples. The more effeminent guy, Stan, is like Hefty Smurf, a jack of all trades. He
is constantly doing a lot of hardcore home improvements and landscaping, etc. The more buffed up masculine dude loves to cook, and is more of a housewife type. Kay especially loves the brownies he makes for us from time to time!

One day, Kay and I had returned from a little grocery shopping and one of the guys ran out of the house…

“Ladylee, we’re laying down hardwood floors! Come on over here and have a look!”

Well you know me… I am nosy. I sat my sacks down on top of the car and started to walk over there. My sister Kay stood there, stone-faced and looking crazy. She was shocked and silent, but she had that look on her face that screamed…

“Oh Hell Nawl!”

“Girl, bring your butt on here,” I ordered.

She reluctantly followed me. I walked into the house and I talked with the guys about their floors. I was way careful (as usual) to not say names, for fear of calling one of them by the wrong name. I usually just wait for one to address the other, then start calling names…

Well, Stan, the more effeminate of the two, got all excited.

“Ladylee, I looked over there, and I told Paul ‘Oh my God, she already has her curtains up!!’”

“No I don’t,” I said. “That’s called ‘Wait ‘til it gets dark, turn off all the lights and cover the windows with bed sheets.”

Stan had a look of horror on his face, which he quickly did away with. He didn’t notice that I saw it, but I did…

It was that look that whispered…

“I see black people from the ghettoooooooo….”

(Shoot, at least they were all brand new white sheets… None of the sheets were mismatched colors or had funky flowers on them… So, I, Ladylee, was at least being a little civilized).

They quickly moved back to talking about the floors…

Kay and I left… I believe Kay was holding her breath the whole time we were there. My sister knows me… I am bound to say something off the wall to embarrass her.

But the neighbors on the right are cool. Stan is taking college classes and I talk to him about that. He thinks I some type of guru or something because of my Ph.D.

And they are always so helpful!

“Ladylee, don’t you DARE buy a lawn mower. We have one here, and we will cut your grass for you! Don’t you dare get out here!”

“That’s cool!” I replied.

“Ladylee, once we get a ladder for our house so we can take care of our gutters, we are going to take care of yours too. So don’t you DARE get anyone out here to clean those gutters!”

“That’s cool!” I yelled.

Yes, they are some cool friendly neighbors!

But one thing that irks the hell out of me:

They are nosy as hell!!!!!

My builder was building a French drain along the left side of my house, and both Paul and Stan got into an argument with him about it. I stood there and watched, then jetted, because I had stuff to do over in my old College Park hood. I got a call on my cell phone from my neighbor the Infamous Hen-Dog about 20 minutes later.

“Ladylee, why is the police at your house?”

“What? Shoot man, Paul and Stan are out there fighting with my builder. Walk up there and check on my sister and see what the heck is going on.”

(I know my sister Kay. She so scary! I was hoping she didn’t pass out due to all the commotion!)

I rushed back home to find that all was well. My builder whispered…

“Sister, you gonna have trouble out them boys!”

“Whatever. They better cut my grass and get on somehere!”

Their nosiness continued….

My cat Jeremy died shortly after the whole incident with the builder, and I wanted to bury my cat in my backyard. I was a little apprehensive about nosy ass Paul and Stan coming outside talking trash about the funeral I had planned.

But I finally decided that…

It’s my backyard, my property, so I’m gonna bury my cat, doggonit.

Well I expressed my concerns to LadyTee, who was attending Jeremy's funeral…

This hyped LadyTee up, to the point where she was ready and willing to go off on Paul and Stan if they stepped one foot out their door.

Well, we had the small cat funeral: Just me, LadyTee, and her cousin Pokie. We hung around outside taking pictures.

Funny thing… LadyTee and I happen to be dressed alike: tan sweaters and black pants.

(Do you see where I am going with this?)

“They staring out the window, Lee,” LadyTee said out the side of his mouth. “And if they come out here talking shit, then it’s on and popping!”

“Calm down, girl,” I responded.

Paul and Stan came outside and stood on their back porch. They were smiling real hard.

“Oh shit,” LadyTee said under her breath. “They think we together! They think I’m your woman!”

I did all I could to keep my composure, because it was the funniest thing I’d heard all day. I could see how they would say that. We were dressed alike (this wasn’t planned). nd she had her arm around my shoulder. But shoot, we homegirls just taking pictures.

Well, the guys came down off their porch and talked and talked and talked…

LadyTee was standing there, ready at any second to snap if they said anything about me giving my cat (her nephew) a proper backyard burial.

I could have cared less.

Since then, they’ve been cheesing hard everytime they see me now.

“Hi ya, LadyLee!”

“Hey!” I always yell back! (I still can’t tell them apart. They look more and more alike everyday!)

I’m cool with them… it’s all good… I think they think they have a gay sista living next door.

I hate to break it to them, but, um I don’t like women.

Heck, they can think what they want to think, though…

As long as they cut my grass and clean my gutters!!!