I'd like to take this time to introduce you to my neighbors.

We've all met the original Crazy Neighbor, who lives in a world completely contained in his own head. He's fantastically nice, and we've become quite friendly over the days, while I dig around in our building's front garden (I'm growing bouganvilla!) and he compliments me on how nice it looks. Too bad the only thing currently growing is a patch of weeds. But the weeds are green and he thinks they belong there.

Crazy Neighbor is good friends with a lady who lives next door, whose name I haven't yet learned. She always seems to have rollers in her hair, in preparation for attending an outing which I wonder if she's ever made it to?... I have never seen her without the rollers. Perhaps she wears them all the time, just in case she needs to get ready. She has a head start. This lovely lady is the proud owner of a Miniature Pinscher named "Freaky," whose name is a result of his unfortunate case of schitzophrenia--Freaky stands in the middle of the yard, sniffing the air, and then suddenly turns to attack nearby shadows, barking and snarling. God help you if you approach Freaky, it will ruin his day AND yours. Although for some reason, he likes sniffing my feet. Do my feet really have that interesting a scent? That worries me a little.

I'm sure you ALL are familiar with Mr. Clucky, who lives down the next block. He's very a famous chicken, you know. (Excuse me, ROOSTER.)

Mr. Clucky can often be found lounging about on Lincoln Road with his owner, watching passers-by and basking in their praise of his impeccable white feathers. Mr. Clucky also likes to stand on the handlebars of his owner's bike, and ride around the block with his wings outstretched. It actually makes me a little sad, as if he knows he can't fly and he craves the sensation of the wind beneath his wings. Or maybe he's just a stupid bird? Don't say that to his owner, however, who claims Mr. Clucky can speak--and carry on conversations. As in, speak words. His owner has long colorful stories of conversations he's had with Mr. Clucky, and he'll be happy to tell you them all in great detail, should you have the time to kill. I, for whatever it's worth, have not yet been treated to any of Mr. Clucky's loquaciousness, other than the typical crowing. But every time we meet, I give it another shot. Perhaps Mr. Clucky is just shy.

Down two blocks, you'll find Mickey Rourke.

Mickey lives in a condo with a nice pool, where I like to lay out from time to time. Mikey is a surprisingly pleasant guy, who is quick to share his Heinekens. Unfortunately, he landed himself in hot water with the condo board, when he insisted on parking his Vespa on the sidewalk by the front door, instead of the parking garage.

The condo board had his Vespa towed. Take THAT, "Marv."

Mickey Rourke was not happy about that. He's moving. But the condo board is happy to see him go, as his windows are all blocked out by aluminum foil. Spooky. Whatever, he was nice to me. Too bad I'll have to get my Heinekens from somewhere else.

Fun Fact about Mickey Rourke: he has been protesting a pet store up the road--he bought a puppy as a gift for a friend, but it died a few days later of some disease. So he marches in front of it from time to time, telling people not to buy puppies there because it's a puppy mill. Who knew he was such an animal lover? Go to the pet store, you might see him, causing a ruckus. He has a soft spot in my heart for that.

And around the corner...we have Miss Tiffany.

(click to enlarge)

Miss Tiffany, while not as famous as Mr. Clucky, is a sensation. Never will you meet a lady with such poise and graciousness, always a kiss on the cheek in greeting and a compliment on your outfit. Nor will you meet a "lady" who can so effortlessly snap you like a twig--Miss Tiffany is approximately 7 feet tall, not including the wig. She is the favored door host amongst the clubs in town, not only for her sparkling personality and elegant application of cosmetics, but also for general intimidation factor. We love Miss Tiffany. I'm so lucky we live around the corner from each other. It's nice to know I have a neighbor who would gladly share a cup of sugar, should I need it...or the biggest pair of high heels you've ever seen.

So that's my neighborhood. I live with a drag queen, a chicken (excuse me, a ROOSTER), and a bunch of crazy people who entertain themselves with visions in their heads. I love it here. Come for a visit.

Comments

[Darryll]

And you wonder why he talks to himself?

[jason]

I definitely want to visit!---I'm a gratious guest, AND I know what you look like first thing in the morning.
;-)

[Emily]

Your neighborhood sounds like way too much fun Dan! Never a boring day, and let's face it, who wants a boring day? Not me, that's for sure.

[Tofer]

Visit? Hell, I want to move there.

[Tiffany]

thanx for the compliments Dan. Even though I'm not 7ft... Well maybe after the big heels and wig but other than that. I'm average. And it was good to see you at Edison's B-day party, hope you had a blast.

[Glenn C.]

How strange that Mickey Rourke lives in a condo. Where did all the money go? I'd think he would live in a mansion in Miami. Did all of those botched plastic surgeries bleed him dry? How sad. I hope Lincoln Road isn't the real name of the street. Now you'll get stalkers trying to find you and thus more unwanted crazy people in your life.

[misscrankypants]

Wow, that's a big COCK! (Sorry, it was too easy...)

This is the best "Who are the people in your neighborhood" story ever!

[Yummsh]

The image of the rooster riding around on the bicycle with his wings outstretched is lovely. Just lovely.

[Hephaestion]

Mickey Rourke was one of the most gorgeous men to ever live about 20 - 25 years ago... Isn't it too bad we can't all stay hot 'til the day we die?

I always envision him having hot, semi-perverse sex in a secluded apartment... perhaps with aluminum foil all over the windows...

[Hephaestion]

I live just up the street from the White House (in DC) so here's a thought: If I send my neighbor George Bush down to Miami Beach to be your neighbor, will you send Miss Tiffany up here to bring some style and fun and sanity to the White House? Maybe SHE can finally kick Dick Cheney's and Karl Rove's arses outta the place.

[john]

Has Mickey ever hit on you? Well, probably not...apparently he has a taste for male "masseurs".
Although, maybe all those Heinekens...he might have been trying to liquor you up....EWWWWWWWW.

Sorry, had to go there...and since someone already got to the "big cock" joke first...well....

[desertwind]

Hi Tiffany! You're such a cutie!

I'm a little bit jealous of your neighborhood, Dan Renzi.

[sexyr]

Hephaestion - maybe you want to start up a petition of some sort - Tiffany for President? And get it pushed through congress? You can be Tiffany's James Carville - I'll be her Stephanopolous.

[Mark]

In the mid 90's Mickey Rouke secretly put speedballs in the jug of orange juice we had on our table at a model party in Les Bain Douche in Paris. The photographer I was with collapsed on a shoot the following day and I passed out at The Eurostar terminal in Paris. People I was meeting in London thought I had fallen off the train. Nice. I wouldn't share a Heineken with him.

[lindz]

omg why is that rooster so big??!?!

[Glenn]

Everyone wants a neighbor who has a cock that talks.