I remember hearing a saying that went somewhere along the lines of “An enlightened person speaks of ideas, the average person speaks of events and the ignorant speak about each other.” Or something like that.
For this particular post, I shall be expounding on the interesting antics of a fellow human being, as lowly as that may be.
So, without further ado...
The end of summer brings with it many things...the local pool closes its doors, the school crossing lights begin flashing once again and to the lament of the neighborhood men, the sexy neighbor across the street will have to once again wear clothes. No more sunbathing in her bikini, in the front yard (for optimum viewing pleasure) while her unruly children pillage my garage. No more chatting on her cell phone in her teeny tiny shorts while pacing her driveway. But do you know what I’ll really miss? Her pom poms. Yes. I will miss her pom poms.
And I don’t mean that in as an euphemism. I mean I’ll miss her pom poms. She will haul out her little radio, position herself in front of her window so she can see her reflection, and dressed in her short-shorts and her sports bra, she dances and shakes her pom poms. I have a very good view of this routine from my living room window. And it’s not like I’m spying. You can’t help but watch. It’s hypnotizing. How often do you get to see a full grown, scantily clad woman do a stripper routine in her front yard? Yeah. That’s what I thought. This routine has a way of bringing
the guys in the neighborhood out in their front yards, to take care of hereto neglected yard work.
I had many hypothesizes about this...I thought perhaps she was trying out for the cheerleading squad for the local arena football team. I thought perhaps she was a stripper with some kind of cheerleading routine. Then I found out she actually helped out with the girls’ cheerleading camp. I was disappointed. That’s so...wholesome. But as to why she does it outside, I still don’t know. Not enough room in the house, I suppose. But what’s wrong with the relatively private backyard?No large windows to see herself in, maybe. No admiring audience.
But today I notice that there is a For Rent sign in their front yard. It’s the end of an era. But there is still hope for the neighborhood men. The new neighbor down the road and her husband have taken to playing catch with a football in the road. While wearing a bikini top and shorts. (Her. Not the husband.)
So men, rejoice! There may still be reason to go outside and mow the front yard! All is not lost.