Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Eugene

One of the houses next door to me has been blissfully empty since I moved in. No one around, a little junky looking, but no neighbor is worth it!

Just a few weeks ago.......Eugene moved in.

Eugene is the 30-something, unemployed son of the man who actually owns the house. Just to give you a good idea of the person who is Eugene, I will tell you how we first met.

Remember, I have a fear (bordering on phobia) of bellybuttons? Well....

Eugene was standing on his side of the fence taking a rest after mowing is lawn. I was walking toward my car. He called me over and introduced himself. Almost in the same breath, he pulled up his dripping, sweaty t-shirt to show me his newly incised hernia scar. It was all bandaged around his belly button AND the belly button was just peekin' out of the bandages, all deep and hairy and droopy and gross.

A typical reaction may be

1. No reaction, walking calmly away.
2. Assertively telling Eugene that I do not appreciate being subjected to the sight of anyone's belly button, including but not limited to, his.
3. Saying simply, "Dude! TMI!"
4. Throwing up.

Did I do any of these things? No.

I laughed.

I can't help it. When there is a question of conduct, my automatic response is to gloss over everything with laughter.

Well now, apparently, we are the best of friends.

I cannot get away from this guy. He comes over to talk to me the minute I get home. He rambles. Every other sentence is, "I don't know if you know anything about....(insert any random thought here)." He actually admits that he thinks of himself as a genius, and due to his intelligence, he can't seem to hold a job.

Remember my fake interview answers?

I WAS JUST KIDDING! I have now met someone that truly believes this crap. And I cannot get rid of him.

Any suggestions?

2 Comments:

At 11:14 PM, Anonymous megan said...

Oh my dear, dear girl. Do you have any idea how I sympathize with you? Remember me, last year with you know who? Crawling around in my own living room so he wouldn't see that I was home and come over to talk with (at) me? I can so completely feel for you....
I think the answer is to bite the bullet and try really, really hard to be a aloof with him. Rude even.
I know it's hard.
That said, I have this adorable little Jehovahs Witness coming over on Monday next week. This super cute little old guy, about 70 years old. He gave me an AWAKE magazine and said he wanted to come by next week and discuss it with me and I said in my most aloof voice.
"OK"
Want to bring Eugene over and we can all hang out?
Damn.
xxm

 
At 6:21 AM, Blogger Squishi said...

Fake your own death.

Oh, no hang on, that won't work.

Um... buy a stun gun and hit him with a jolt. Hang on, no, he'd prolly enjoy it.

Well... actually. Nope. No ideas really. My horrible neighbour from hell did herself away from me... she had her house burnt down by arsonists, so I didn't have to try to avoid her anymore. She went off to the psych unit never to be seen again.

Hooray! There's your answer! Call in the men with white coats on him!

 

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