Where Do We Go, Where Do We Go Now, Axl Doesn’t Even Know

FUCKY FUCKAROONS. For the life of me, can’t remember where I left off in the HOA debacle. Someone, please remind me? Is anyone reading who remembers what I wrote about? And why? I don’t think it’s asking too much to expect You People to keep track of my writings and themes despite a ten year hiatus.

Like, did I already tell you about being, uh, “dismissed” from an “HOA” “meeting”? How I used my people skills to ease the tension in the room? Did I tell you about the shithole next door? How the shithole “owner” called the police? Did I post pics of the shithole? Or any of the other neighborhood hideolas? I know I posted the “security” lights again and the internet yawned, but did I tell you about the “golf cart” and show the pics of that, with the ridiculous ornamentation that will make you LOL til no more LOLs can come out of your LOL-holes, ever? Did I show you the pic from the time they ran into their own extremely well-constructed and elegant-looking wall?

Oopsy.
Oopsy.

Did I tell you about the “letters” I received from the “HOA”? Perhaps I can reproduce them here in email form. A festive back and forth. Did I show you the email signature of the one I call “pompous illiterate asshole”? Did I tell you how I was told, by the pompous illiterate asshole, that I “remind him of his wife” when we discussed “HOA” concepts at a “meeting”?

As you can see, I have so many of these pretty stories about boats and lakes and noodle salad, all piled up inside me, that I just don’t know where to START. I don’t know who’s even interested. Are you? I don’t want to repeat myself. I know your “time” is valuable. I feel I should proceed in an orderly fashion. But maybe I should just randomly post things. No connections, no thematic consistency. Or, I could make a helpful chart or glossary or something, too. So that people who wander in here searching for “pecan pie recipes from pompous illiterate assholes” could instantly realize, “Oh no, this is all just pictures of dog poops decorated with Christmas ornaments” and go about their business elsewhere.

Do you want pics of my dog? She is old and sweet. Blind. Deaf. It’s sad, but she’s still OK.

So, what about the twelve poops of Christmas? We could look at those again even though it’s March. Who says we can’t? Whomever says we can’t is undoubtedly the person who will leave me a bad review and not buy my “e-books” that are not written yet. Let’s curse that person now to save time. Fuck you anyone who doesn’t want to see dog poops with Christmas decorations around them in March.

This was Day 9 in the 12 Poops of Christmas. Just to give you an idea of the scope of the project.
This was Day 9 in the 12 Poops of Christmas. Just to give you an idea of the scope of the project.

OH. I have this PLAN. Big plan. I have made myself a pen name because most of you are fine but there are those occasional not-fine people on the internet. So I plan to write “amusing” books using the fake nose-and-glasses identity, which is oddly similar to my real identity, and then self-publish e-books on Amazon and all over the internetzes. Know what happens then? Yes. YOU will go forth and not only buy these books, but you will also tell everyone you know to buy them as well. Then I will appear on Oprah. I’m not sure she is still on TV, but, whatever. Maybe I will go straight to Jimmy Kimmel.

After I’m filthy rich from selling my “e-books,” that you will all buy and review very very favorably, I will “thank” you all with special gifts like a TND key chain and perhaps a TND trucker hat. I haven’t gotten that far in my “business plan” yet. You have to help me do this. It’s my lifelong dream. Remember how many times I helped YOU with your lifelong dreams? Do you??

Skepticism is what I am sensing from You People at the moment. Deep skepticism.
Skepticism is what I am sensing from You People at the moment. Deep skepticism.

Don’t Even Know Where To Begin It’s A Complete Catastrophe

There is a clamor across the land. People want to know about the “security lights.” And I’m going to tell you all about it. You’ll be riveted. “What news of the nabes, Butt and Chiffon? Are they around? Are the lights still blasting?” Oh the emails, they pour in daily.

Yes to all. If you’re new to this, there are two automatic dusk-to-dawn $37 360-degree-blast-radius cheap-ass ugly-ass outdoor lights next door to us. They’ve been blasting into our yard and windows for about fifteen years. Here is the exact lighting. Note the sleek lines, the exquisite workmanship. This is also the exact same light that’s over the dumpster in the back parking area of our local Taco Bell. Say what you will about Taco Bell but they know dumpster security.

Equally at home over a dumpster or illuminating the gardens at Balmoral Castle, these elegant fixtures are part of any well thought out security plan.
Equally at home over a dumpster or illuminating the gardens at Balmoral Castle, these elegant fixtures are part of any well thought out security plan.

Hard to believe it’s been fifteen years since I had “the conversation” down by the mailbox.

The conversation that broke my mind.

Me: Hey Chiffon. Nice, uh, nightie. Say, any chance you could maybe put like, I dunno, a shield on those two big yard lights? Or turn them down or something? Each one is 750 watts and that’s a lotta really bright light blasting OUR house and yard all night.

Chiffon: They’re security lights.

Me: Roger that. But they’re blasting OUR yard, and blasting into OUR bedroom and dining room and kitchen and living room windows. Burning a swath of black into our once-green lawn.

And she kept repeating it, no matter what I said. Like Rain Man (“Wapner at 4″).

Me: I know. Security. Got it. But they’re blasting US.

Chiffon: They’re security lights.

Me: I hear ya. Thing is, they’re blasting over into OUR bedroom windows. Through the black-out blinds we had installed to try to keep out your lights. You know?

Chiffon: They’re security lights.

Me: I once disemboweled a weasel and ate the intestines while watching a sunset.

Chiffon: They’re security lights.

They don’t just have the two 750-watt dusk-to-dawn lights. They also have other types of lights, all bright and all aimed outward. Because bright lights aimed into your own windows would be, you know, annoying. There are lights mounted on every corner of the house, and along the side walls, everywhere. The rest of the neighborhood is dark. We’re not in a big city or near a “downtown” area.

Here’s an actual picture of another of their lights, off the corner of their garage. It’s like, half an acre away. I took the picture with a piece of black linen cloth folded in half and held over the lens. Bright, huh? Well, imagine this without the black cloth, and much closer. That’s how the “security lights” are.

This is not one of the security lights. This is the regular light on the garage. It's nothing compared to the two security lights.
This is not one of the security lights. This is the regular light on the garage. It’s nothing compared to the two security lights.

BTW, ever read this? You should. He tells this same basic story way better than I ever will. I laugh out loud at the drawing and the helpful “legend” in it every damned time. And I relate, Mr. David Thorne. Oh yes I do. But I’m not bold or scofflaw enough to remove the “security” lights or shoot them out. Instead, because I’m not a “jackass,” I paid to have a partial shield (wooden trellis) built. It sort of blocks maybe 20 feet of the main, closest blast of a 400 foot long swath of blast along our property line. The worst part of ONE “security” light (the one closest to our house). I’ll have to draw a map of this and post it. But not right now.

There are many, many “hideolas in the hood.” All will be examined in turn here. You think you’ve heard stories about ugly things in neighborhoods, about HOA “problems.” YOU KNOW NOTHING.

I’m Back

Dudes. Oh the years, they have passed. And the blogs. They have come and gone. Mostly gone. And Two Nervous Dogs went. And there was sadness on the faces of the few.

Now, like the phoenix rising from the ashes of WTF, TND is on the air. Bringing you the finest in “huh? well that’s 5 minutes of my life I’ll never get back again” writing. As you would expect.

Like what I’ve done with the place so far? It’s sort of plain, isn’t it? Very “readable.” You can “read” my words of great import. Carry them with you throughout your day. Refer to them often. And, for fuck’s sake, let’s all “utilize” lots of inappropriate quotation marks and “utilize” words like “utilize” instead of the perfectly acceptable “use.” Because we want to “sound” intelligent.

First up, let’s examine the meters. Here we have one that goes to eleven. Is it accurately reflecting the enthusiasm I feel out there from the internet now that TND is back?

Why not just have the original TND from 2003 or whatever be the ONLY stupid blog? Unplugged and dead and with no readers? (Pause.) These go to eleven.
Why not just have the original TND from 2003 or whatever be the ONLY stupid blog? Unplugged and dead and with no readers? (Pause.) These go to eleven.
The Care-O-Meter "appears" to be telling a very different story with regard to the internet's excitement at the return of TND.
The Care-O-Meter “appears” to be telling a very different story with regard to the internet’s excitement at the return of TND.