Yep. After all these eons of spying and waiting and frustrating my inner Gladys Kravitz.
I finally saw our neighbor, Australian Episcopalian priest Father Tony or “Tawny” or Jibbly, dump his trash in someone else’s trash can.
He didn’t see me sitting in my car, but I saw him.
Oh, yes, I did, Father.
I saw you …. yes, I did …. I saw it with my own two eyes …. So you can wipe off the grin …. I know where you’ve been ….. It’s all been a pack of lies
(All together now ….)
And I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord
I’ve been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord
I can feel it in the air tonight, oh Lord, oh Lord
And I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life, oh Lord, oh Lord
Oh Lord, indeed.
Bwa ha ha ha ha!!!!! I freakin’ love it!!!!!!!!!!!!
It must be Eighties Week. I’m gonna put on some pastels and forgo socks.
Hahahahahahaha!!! I love you, Gladys!
Years ago, when I was a kid, we had these VERY STRANGE neighbors who lived across the street. A loud, horrid mother, her skinny, quiet husband, her three loud, horrid daughters, and her skinny, horrid son. And my sister and I and a friend of ours used to spy on them. From the window of the unused second bathroom in our home. It was on the second floor, and from it, you could see right over the stockade fence they’d erected and right into the junk-strewn yard where they were doing unknown BAD THINGS. As good spies, we recorded everything. Including this little gem:
“Wilbur glanced at our house twice.”
He was clearly up to no good, with that sort of behavior.
So Brava, Gladys! Good on ya, mate!
I think you have found your new calling…stake-outs!
Jayne — Hahahahahahaha! You’re killing me!
/A loud, horrid mother, her skinny, quiet husband, her three loud, horrid daughters, and her skinny, horrid son./
Hahahahaha! I can’t stop laughing at that sentence.
And /Wilbur glanced at our house twice./
TWICE. Haha. I’m picturing the three of you stuffed into a bathroom, no less, spying on all these horrid neighbors. And why was the bathroom unused?? There is a whole story to be told here, Jayne.
You should have your own p.i. show. Hmmm…what should it be named?
Jayne-Ah, yes, the bathroom in the back kitchen. With the big old tub. I do recall using it at one point when we were really little. It always smelled so nice in the back kitchen- like laundry soap and bleach. Very comforting. Whatever happened to the W. family? And, why, for the love of God, did they name their son Wilbur?? Do you think they secretly liked Charlotte’s Web?
That song has one of the kicka$$est percussion tracks of any 80s song. Of course it would, though, since Phil himself did it. I heart him so much. 🙂
beth — His REAL name was Wilbur?? I thought that must have been a name our little spies made up for the poor kid.
GraD — Oh, I know, those drums! And whenever you hear the song, you must do air drums, which I basically have no clue how to do so I look like a toddler having a tantrum. Still …. one must do what one must do.
Maybe he has Automysophobia, fear of being dirty. You know tons of germs on trash cans.
I could not find a fear of taking out trash.
Fear of curbs?
What inquiring minds want to know is – what will you DO with this bit of information?
Heh. Have you ever sung “In the Air Tonight” to the tune of “Kashmir”? Great fun. Surprising how well it works.