Run Into Flowers

Jess and I have the most redneck neighbors in the world. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't hold that against them. In fact, I rather enjoy having them for neighbors, despite the way that they only vacuum after ten at night. For a while, I thought that their son (who is probably a sophmore or junior in high school) was really annoying because he listens to music (bad techno, there's this one song he especially likes to play the first forty-five seconds of, it goes like this: thump thump, thump, thump thump, thump, thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump) way too loud. But then I realized that he's not trying to be annoying, he's just deaf. I know this because I heard him using Instant Messenger through the wall. Loud. Like it was my own computer.

The great thing about these neighbors is that they are an oasis of redneckiness in the midst of the great pool of John Kerry-loving college students and professors that is Hill Street and Cobbham. There are a bunch of Kerry-Edwards stickers in our apartment's parking lot. One person has a sticker that says "Fight Primetime, Read A Book." Another neighbor went out the other day with a shirt that said "Vote with your head up your ass. Vote Republican." I didn't get to see the front. Personally, I like living in the pool of liberals; I find it refreshing after living on Lookout for three and half years -- but there are times when I need a good George W Bush 2004 sticker, and our neighbors are there for me when its that time.

As photographic proof of how extremely redneck these neighbors are, I present to you the impossible made possible: Despite not having a lawn, they still managed to park their car on the lawn.