I think I've written before about how we've been living in our neighborhood for a minute but I don't really know any of our neighbors' names. I know a few of their dogs' names, but I have almost no clue what the person's name is.
Then last week I was walking our mongrels and ended up talking to one of our lady-lover-neighbors. We knew their names were Dora and Louise, but I couldn't tell you who is whom. We often referred to them each as either the shorter one or the one with the haircut. Either way, I still had no idea what her name was but we went on talking like we always do--only talking about our dogs because that's really all we know about each other.
Things began to take a dark turn when she asked, "So remind me of y'alls names again. I know Lyle and Janet, but I can't remember what your name is for anything!" I was a little caught off guard. MF, we've been living here for almost two years and you don't know my name!? Instead of throwing the first stone, I replied, "I'm Jon, and he's Ben." It was kind of a relief to know that I wasn't the only one to not at all remember her name. We only ever talk about our dogs, so of course I know Hellion's name. But like I said, to me, she was Haircut not Louise. Then it got weird.
"Or you can just call me Barbara." Ok, what? "Many people know me simply as Barbara." But I thought you just made it clear that your name is Louise, and I will already have trouble remembering that. Why would you want to confuse me even more? "I am the biggest Barbara Steisand fan. So people just call me Barbara a lot." Ok, again, what?
I have loved Janet Jackson as far back as I can remember, but I have never asked anyone to call me Janet. Or even Miss Jackson. And I'm gross. But I think Louise just asked me to call her Barbara if I wanted to because she so loves Barbara Streisand. And all of this came out of nowhere. I thought I made it clear that Janet need to take care of her business, because she just made her signal that she needs to get the fuck out of whatever the situation is that she has had enough of.
Louise is for real in the street, almost, yelling all of this as I am trying to get away and think about the fact that she's pouring out her obsession all over the streets. We don't really know each other, much less know each other's real names. But I can call her Barbara. Did I mention that she's not a gay dude? I'd expect this from some old queen. But this woman's been to all of the two live Barbara live performances she's done over the last like twenty years, among the other bizarre facts she just threw out there. Barbouise's love is intense. And we just met like for an official second time. This was too much for me.
We ended up just turning around and walking in the opposite direction, while Bab's continued yapping on about how much she loves...herself? I don't know. It was a complete overshare and made me a little uncomfortable. And she also kept interjecting that she wanted us to join this neighborhood dog circle where a bunch of folks stand around in a circle while their dogs play in the middle. I know how you and Michael Vick roll. So no thank you, Barbouise.
This makes the umpteenth person who decided that I looked like a friendly enough face that it would be appropriate to tell me their weird business. I don't know how I invite it, but it happens way too often. I don't know.
I'm out.
Jon
