Randy and I are the best neighbors. Seriously, you can’t do better than us.

We will leave you the fuck alone.

It’s not that we’re antisocial. We like people. We love people. In theory.

In practice, not so much. In practice, we will jump through hoops to avoid most of them.

It’s possible we are slightly antisocial.

I’m not rude or anything.

If I make eye contact, I will give a head nod and a smile. Perhaps, a slight wave.

If a neighbor says hello, I will respond in kind. If a neighbor asks how I am, I always say fine and pray to the gods they picket fencerespond to my query with a similar 4 letter word like “good” or “okay”.

That is pretty far as I am willing to take any social interaction with the other humans living in the dwellings adjacent to mine.

So, is this how meeting my new neighbor went?

A slight head nod? Perhaps a brief exchange of names?

Of course not. I am me, so of course not.

I bought this stuff to put on my feet because damn. I could get a pedicure every other day and my heels would look like elephant skin. Same color and everything.

Anyway, you put your feet into these slimy booties and wear them for an hour. Then in a week, the gross skin peels off and your feet look amazing. I have actually done this two other times and the treatment works pretty good. Other than on my heels. There’s just no hope.

Because I like to ignore the fact that I’m clumsy as shit and optimistic about my chances of survival when contemplating doing something sketchy, I decided to walk around in these booties.

It’s kind of like snow skiing, except there aren’t any hills and you don’t have skis and your feet are hot and sliding about in slimy gel. So, you know, exactly like snow skiing.

I walked out on my deck and watched the birds. Randy is an insane bird dude and has been feeding the wildlife in our yard. The weather was comfortable, which was awesome because it’s been stupid hot. Or storming like a motherfucker. There has been no in between. Well, until now.

So, I’m sitting on my deck in my jammies and plastic booties, when the neighbor next door calls over to me.

Neighbor: Excuse me?

Me: Fucking shit. Is there anyone else out here? Is she talking to me? Yes?

Neighbor: Do you have baggies on your feet?

Me: Yes. Yes I do.


Me: It’s a foot thing.


Me: Yeah, that didn’t sound weird. You put these gel filled baggies on your feet for an hour and then after a week, the dead skin peels off.

Neighbor: Yeah? Have you done it before? Do they work?

Me: I have. They work pretty good. I mean, not on my heels, but my heels are disgusting. Seriously, if I got all the dead skin off my heels, I’d be shorter. And walking around in these things is treacherous. I’ll probably end up with a head injury.

Neighbor: Okay! I’ll have to look in to that.

Then she went inside. More accurately, she backed up and went inside.

I think that went really well. I mean, we didn’t exchange names or anything, but that’s cool. There’s no reason to rush things. I just want to see how this relationship unfolds. I feel pretty good about getting the inevitable “state of my heels” conversation over with early on.

So that is what I do.

My first line of defense is always to avoid eye contact, but that doesn’t always work.

So, then maybe a nod or a wave and an awkward smile.Unless, someone fucking talks to me.

Later this week, I have my yearly lady doctor appointment.

Maybe, next time I see my neighbor I’ll have the opportunity to tell her about my vaginal health. Bonus if it’s a week from now. I’ll probably be on the deck peeling dead skin from my feet.

Except not from my heels. Like I said, there is no hope for them.

Add your comments below. Profanity is encouraged, but not required. ;)
  1. Friday says:

    Typo, lady next store

  2. Maybe it’s just me but I think introductions should come before “Do you have baggies on your feet?” Or maybe that’s the new “Could I borrow a cup of sugar?” Because, holy shit, what are you making that requires that much sugar?
    Still that’s a pretty awkward way to introduce yourself. And even worse she didn’t bother to introduce herself.

  3. I wish I was your neighbor…I am the same…a simple nod of the head is good enough for me…I sometimes wear my sun glasses so I can pretend I don’t see them when I go for a walk…

  4. I think she seems cool. She doesn’t appear to like small talk and knew when to leave. There might be hope!

  5. Pretty much how I thought it would go down. Shorter if you lost all the dead skin on your heels, that is fucking brilliant. As you were bag feet lady.

  6. Kristin S says:

    Oh man. I am glad you are taking this journey with me, my sister-in-fuckery. I lived for eighteen years in the house next door to the house my dad was born in. Then, we have to move six miles away and it is like I am now on fucking Mars. I hate being the new kid. Seriously, the second week we moved in fully I wept more than I told anyone over the neighbor situation.

    I didn’t know a lot of our neighbors well previously, after eighteen years. The idea that all I might have to do is say hi or wave and nothing more. .. much like I had done at, y’know, my REAL home (yeah, sorry, this is still weird as hell) was immensely freeing when it dawned on me.

    The people across from us are truly lovely. So I feel like a dork, because they are SO GOOD at being nice people.

    The people next to us evidently prejudged me as an asshole because they ran out when the pug whizzed on the fucking sidewalk and yelled at me to clean it up. How, motherfucker? I finally yelled, “Look, I have bags. I can not pick up liquid. I am not magic. I am sorry. I do not know what more you want from me.” And he actually… is more of an awkward fuck than I am, it seems, and relaxed a bit because… for fuck’s sake. Last time I assume someone is less of an asshole than I am.

    I mean, I guess I am not anyone to say anything, but I probably would’ve just overlooked the baggies on your feet. If I did more than wave (which I probably wouldn’t. We’d get on well.) Maybe I would have figured it was a religious or fraternity type thing. Like… A Shriner’s fez for feet.

    At least you didn’t invite her over for the foot reveal. Because… honestly, the peeling off bit sounds delightful and cringey all in one.

  7. mydangblog says:

    Maybe if you put a Ziplock on your cooch, it will incite further interest and conversation…

  8. Harry says:

    First impressions…

  9. Rena says:

    Oh Sister! I really needed a good laugh this morning! Thank you!

  10. Maria P says:

    And repeat….

  11. Doug in Oakland says:

    Meeting neighbors can be awkward and a little stressful, but I have found it to be worth the trouble. As in I might still have some of the four electric guitars I lost to burglaries if I had gotten to know my neighbors better a little sooner than I did.
    Met some interesting folks, too.
    Anyway, my friend Zsuzs has gotten us back online, like my friend Sara did back in 2013, so yay for friends!

  12. Angi says:

    I needed that today. Glad I’m not alone with the selective peopling!

  13. I think: mission accomplished! You probably freaked your neighbor out just enough to think you’re a really weird person with a bizarre foot fetish. She’ll probably leave you alone forever now! Go Michelle!

  14. Pat says:

    I would like a neighbor who spoke to me. I live alone and wonder how long it will take someone to find me if I kick off

    • Fiona says:

      Aww, Pat! Are any of them apparently sane and nice enough for you to start the conversation?

    • Michelle says:’s to hoping you strike up a friendship with a neighbor.

    • Kristin S says:

      Aw Pat… I have wondered this too. Sadly knew a guy who found a co-worker one weekend too late and it was a whole office wondering why they hadn’t been better friends.

      I did worry more in our old place. Had a mail slot in the door. It would take years to build up.

      Anyway, Pat, I hope it never comes to it, but know you are not alone in that nagging worry, because… Believe me, you are not.

  15. deborah says:

    Buy her a pair of booties and leave them on her porch. You will either become friends or she will never approach you again. Win-win.

  16. Liv says:

    WOW. It’s not just ME then?? Because ARG the PEOPLING.

  17. BarbaraM says:

    Maybe she was trying to find out if you were as weird as the last neighbors were. I believe baggies on your feet at least equal that kitchen counter.
    I’m with Pat – I practically forced an introduction with my neighbors when we moved here just to have someone notice if we were missing. But now we’re going to have to move again and the impetus is just not there anymore. I suspect that where we wind up after this move will be in a neighborhood where you don’t make eye contact for very different reasons.

  18. Lisa K says:

    We would be the BEST neighbors…

  19. emelle says:

    Just please don’t peel dead skin off your lady garden on the back deck! HA!