In case you missed it, last week was my birthday. It was also time to renew my driver's license. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that until the day before my birthday when I was forced to write a check (what a foreign experience), and the clerk at the store said, "Your license expires tomorrow." So, I got online, renewed my license, and was told it would take about seven days for it to arrive at my home.
In the meantime, I can't drive without getting a ticket*. Go Big Gov!
So, on Monday of this week, my mom called and asked if I could take her somewhere. I told her I could, but she would have to drive. Since I only live half a mile from her, I figured it was safe to drive to her house and off we went. So, we're coming home and as we turn on the road, we noticed a large clump of something in the center of it. My mom's eyesight isn't as great as it used to be, and she couldn't make out anything. I told her it looked like an animal, and it appeared to be moving. I hoped it wasn't something that had been hit by a car. I hate seeing that sort of thing, especially if it's still alive.
The closer we got, the more I realize it wasn't an animal at all. It was a person. No, two people. Possibly conjoined twins, a man and a woman. They didn't seem to be able to pry themselves apart from each other.
Oh. Ohhhh. Ew. Ew. Ew.
Now, they weren't naked or anything, but she had her leg wrapped around him and he had his hand up her shirt, and had we not turned down the road at that particular moment, I'm pretty sure something distasteful would have taken place right then and there.
"It's a couple and they're groping each other," I squealed after getting over my initial shock.
"Who are they? Have you ever seen them on the road before? Where do they live?" My parents are well aware of the fact that I keep a pretty good inventory of everyone on the street, even the renters who are only here for a few months. I've also got a good working knowledge of all registered sex offenders within a five-mile radius, but that's a story for another day.
But in this case, I had not seen this particular couple before. She looked like an older, fatter Zooey Deschanel and dressed like a Wal-Mart version of Kristen Wiig's "Target Lady." He looked like he was stuck in the 70's or earned a living working as a Mr. Kotter impersonator. They were probably in their early to mid 40's; then again, I'm not good at guessing ages these days, because I'm convinced I still look to be about 20 and judge everyone else accordingly.
Anyway, I told my mom to slow down as we drove past them, and I gave them the evil eye to let them know that groping and making out in the middle of the road where I spent my childhood riding my bike and walking my dog was not okay. They just smiled, waved, and went right back to making out. In the middle of the freaking road!
Fast forward to Wednesday, and I was making the illegal half-mile drive to my parents' house, so I could use their internet. I pulled out of my road and onto theirs and what do I see but the make-out twins again. Ugh! And what do you know, they were standing there in the middle of the road again, going at it like he'd just gotten back from several years spent away from home, defending the Confederacy and not caring that they lost because he never thought he'd see Sally Sue Touchesalot again.
Seriously? The whole almost-sex-in-the-street thing was not a one-time deal? This is something you're going to keep up? Are we filming porn around here? My county won't even allow Sunday alcohol sales, but they'll okay this? And by the way, do you need a writer? Cause I need a job. Just sayin'.
I drove straight to my parents' house and told my mom that the new neighbors were out and about again, putting on a show for everyone to see, just a few houses down from her home for the last three and a half decades, the home that's been in my family for over a century. She laughed, shrugged it off, and said, "I wonder where they live?"
How could she not be appalled by this situation?
So, yesterday, I asked my mom to take me to the grocery store (By the way, Department of Driver's Services: six of the seven days you said it would take me to get my license have passed. You're on notice.) We went to Publix, I purchased some no-carb foods, did my best not to break into my Lisa Loeb impersonation when "Stay" came over the intercom, and we were driving home when I noticed a man who looked strangely like Mr. Kotter cutting the grass at this little rental house towards the end of the road. I stared him down, trying to remember where I'd seen him before. It didn't hit me until a small, round woman came running up to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind, a ridiculously euphoric look on her face. While the lawn mower was still running, of course...
What the hell is these people's problem? It's like if they don't touch each other so many times a day, a bomb will explode and kill Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves or something. Gahhhh.
I sure do miss the woman who lived in that house before. She was older, appeared to live alone and maintained a quiet, uneventful life. As a matter of fact, the only time she ever garnered any attention is when I saw some paramedics loading her up in the back of an ambulance. A day or two later, she was back sitting on her porch, quietly drinking what I assumed was coffee and reading a newspaper, so it must have been a minor incident.
Given the recent events in my neighborhood (escaped convicts in my yard, murdered beloved family pets and stolen scrap metal), I guess this should be the least of my worries, but seriously, I do not want to see people acting out Deep Throat in the middle of the road**.
*Unless I am really craving Chick-fil-A and willing to risk the three and half mile drive to my local one. Not that I've done that.
**Unless I can figure out a way to use this situation to jumpstart my own writing career. Looking at you, 50 Shades of Grey.