Midwest Choppers

by Leila Dayne


 

I’m in the midwest on a little “vacation”, if you will. Visiting family, rejuvenating my creativity, working on my book (kind of) and just trying to have a good time. I generally love being in the midwest because the people are so outgoing and friendly. I guess I should specify, MOST people…not all. Which brings me to this little experience. I’m staying with some friends in their cute little suburban paradise. It’s really a divine little place…for the most part. 

I’m sitting on her deck in this little heart of suburbia on this mild Saturday morning, coffee in hand, enjoying the beautiful morning and early morning conversation with my girlfriend who lives here. Their elusive new neighbor, whom I’ve only heard about but neither of us have ever seen before, finally makes her debut with her maaah-jorly annoying bush whacker, or weed cutter, or noise maker…whatever, I’m not a fucking gardener. Fine, Mystery Neighbor, trim your bushes if you must, this early while we are clearly only 25 feet away enjoying our morning. (My coffee has clearly not kicked in by this point.) 

But that’s not all she’s doing. She’s screaming at her lackluster, annoying voiced children…who are INSIDE the house. I’m not the mother of the year, or any expert and I’m sure I lack any profound otherworldly advice yet I know this for sure…If you’re going to furrow your brow under that stupid visor you’re wearing and yell at your kids, take it inside, lady! I say this on behalf of the entire neighborhood and probably your husband, you already look crazy enough in that ridiculous hat, waving around that power tool! Now you’re screaming at your kids? You look like a suburban version of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Also if you haven’t noticed your “well-behaved” children don’t take you seriously at all. Who would, with those ill-fitting knock off Juicy Couture sweatpants and that RIDICULOUS pink visor you probably got from your sorority in ’92. I’m sure I’d be pissed off too if that ugly visor had my temples in a vice grip and my husband was making me do yard work but that’s when you take your cue and dust of your margarita machine, grab your headphones and lock yourself in the bathroom like any respectable mother would do. Get a grip desperate housewife, that or a new wardrobe and some Xanax. And judging by your outfit, maybe when your husband asked you to trim the bushes, he wasn’t talking about the ones in front of your house. Just some neighborly advice, that’s all.

Okay, sorry, end rant. I’m gonna throw some RumChata in this coffee and start this day over on a better note!!!

 

All My Grouchy Love,

LD