***FLASHBACK***

When I was growing up, I lived in a working class suburb.

Middle class.

No crime.

Kinda nice.

Back then, the neighborhood where the rich kids lived was "Clayton".

I always wondered what it would be like to live in Clayton.

The ritzy side of town.

***END FLASHBACK***

I spent the last 10 years living in the same type of middle class suburban neighborhood that I grew up in.

Still wondering what it would be like to live on the ritzy side of town.

Clayton.

In my current town, the ritzy side of town is Stone Oak.

I no longer wonder what it would be like to live there.

I'm there.

And it sucks.

An anecdote to start us off:

I'm used to being flipped off

Occasionally

On the road.

My driving is

At times

...er...

COLORFUL

To put it nicely.

But last Saturday morning at 7:30

In the WalMart parking lot

I was in super-nice mode

(I did, after all, have a good dose of caffeine in my veins

And a wallet full of ca$h with which to purchase Xmas gifts.

And don't ask what I got you for Xmas, Dusty.

You'll just have to come visit KZ and me to find out)

I was feelin' good

When a minivan whipped out in front of me

Causing me to stand up on the breaks.

And put the fear of God

Into the little Beamer sports car behind me.

I immediately switched to battle mode.

Reaching for floorboard projectiles to hurl

Out the window

At the minivan

At the enemy

Until I noticed it was just a little old lady.

I figgered she just wasn't paying attention.

So I decided not to lob any breakables at her.

But in the next nanosecond

(Now too late for me to retaliate in kind

As I had already dropped the bowling pin I keep on the floorboard

For just such occasions)

Gramma whipped that hand up

Flipped me off

And began mouthing unrecognizable words at me

(Well, SOME of the words were recognizable.

You know the ones I mean).

Like it was all MY fault.

It's a wonder her dentures didn't fall out

As fast as her mouth was goin'.

I'd like to know who makes her adhesive.

That'd be a good stock investment.

So this is a taste

Of how it is

In Stone Oak

The ritzy side of town.

Let's take a closer look, shall we?

Old side of town: I knew all my neighbors by first name.

Stone Oak: I knocked on my new neighbors' doors to introduce myself to them and they acted like I was a madman. Not the most social neighborhood.

Solution: Looked up all neighbors' names in the neighborhood association's directory. (They really do print this - it lists every human being by name and birthdate that lives in the neighborhood. Great stalking tool). Made a neighborhood chart with pictures of little houses using Excel and entered everyone's address and names on the chart. Posted chart inside front door.

Result: . I quickly glance inside the front door, consult the handy-dandy "Who's Who In the Neighborhood" chart hanging there, note the address of the waving neighbor, ascertain his name, and respond, "Hi Jim".

Old side of town: Constantly being surrounded by aggressive drivers on the road driving junkers that they don't care about cuz they're already paid for.

Stone Oak: Constantly being surrounded by aggressive drivers on the road driving Hummers, BMWs, and Lexus's that they don't care about cuz they can afford to buy another one when the ashtray gets full.

Solution: Become that aggressive driver on the road driving a junker that I don't care about cuz it's already paid for. Play Korn really loud with sunglasses on, so others think I'm stoned and wouldn't notice bouncing off the occasional Beamer every now and then.

Result: Those driving Hummers, BMWs, and Lexus's contemplate what it would be like to live in a better part of town where the working poor aren't aggressively driving stoned in their junkers around their neighborhood.

Old side of town: punk-ass criminal-looking teenage boys trying to date my daughter.

Stone Oak: punk-ass preppie-looking teenage boys trying to date my daughter.

Solution: ALWAYS answer the phone or the door before my daughter does. Explain potential pitfalls of EVER touching my daughter without her permission. Explain that my daughter isn't old enough to give permission. Remind potential suitors that I have friends that work in hospitals that can, very thoroughly, dismember, hide, and dispose of "my little irritations".

Result: punk-ass teenage boys obviously controlled by hormones and NOT common sense. Scared of me, but not smart enough to run away. End up owing lots of favors to my friend at the hospital...

Old side of town: House too small. Not enough room for guests.

Stone Oak: Much larger house. Family visits often.

Result: contemplating moving back to old side of town.

***EPILOGUE***

Just cuz I know yer wonderin'

If I got you anything for Xmas

My number one reader...

I did.

It's a wish

That you too

Can live in joy

And serenity

On the ritzy side of town.

And still complain

Just

Like

Me.

Always remember that you're unique; just like everybody else.