You Pay for the Whole Seat, but You'll Only Need the Edge

In the first couple of weeks of August this year I made the conscious decision to take a wee hiatus from facebook. I wanted to discipline myself and take a break from the selfies, the check-ins, the sometimes nasty or humorous comments and quotes via status update that I picked up along the way in my little life. It went well. I then traveled to the west coast, shared a few pics and got back into the regular routine of social media advertising the 'Kevin-brand' if you will. Well, the couple week commercial went alright and so I decided that maybe I could take another longer break. Maybe almost a whole month? September. So I did. This time, for almost four weeks ne'er an update, check-in, upload, snarky/clever comment, tag etc left from my fingertips through my itsy bitsy ipodphone or sleek laptop to your eyes for your viewing or judging pleasure. I also committed to include no grindr as part of my break. Oh the irony. My cellular bill will appreciate the ease on the data usage. phew. While things may have slowed down somewhat on the screen of my mobile device, it sure didn't stop me from having a busy prologue to the dreaded autumn and inevitable winter that's going to wreak pale havoc on my coppertoned body and chilling permeable frost on my already broken joints. Oh tanning days, how I will miss you once again. I am fortunate to have a very disposable income, and the majority of my friends do as well, so we are able to keep up with enjoying and experiencing nice and new things out and about. However, I made an effort to reconnect with pots, pans and grocery stores. I cooked. In a kitchen. Sometimes not even my own. I even did a 3 day cleanse during this time. All apples, for 3 days. No joke. I survived. I tried to be a better son. No scrap that, that's impossible. I'm far too lazy and selfish to change my spoiled ways. I am me after all. But I never see my mother. So I made an extra effort to see and spend more time with mumsy whenever I could. Chatting with her before she's off to work, saying yes to a dinner out with her, a nice stroll in a city garden, an impromptu shopping trip to the mall and ending the month now with the trip I am taking her and my aunt on, out to see my cousin in Saskatchewan. Oh, and a family day @ Wonderland. I hadn't been in years. The good movie season is upon us, so throw in a few visits to the cineplex, a good ole fashioned hoot, holler and foot stomping time in the stands at the FC game watching those little soccer players run their fit little selves across the big lawn, and a half assed attempt at my own re-introduction to the gym and we have September. Come and gone like the tooth fairy. October is another month. Hold on tight my kids, ur about to see a whole lotta Kevin once again and I'm sure you can't wait!?! Just sitting on the edge in anticipation aren't ya? Toodles

What's the French translation for bread?

Every morning when I wake up I am reminded that a singular moment when I was 17 or 18 or so would change my life and thoughts on pain for what now seems the rest of my life. I was getting into a booth at lunch with my family and my left track pant leg caught as I was sliding in. Everything above the knee kept moving, and below...not so much. Since then I've had 5 more injuries to the same knee. It's weak, it's torn, it's a pain. Literally. I don't take medication for it anymore like I used to for long trips. It can't be kept bent too long. That's the worst. Where I sit at a dinner table is dictated by my left knee cause it's gotta be kept straight. The seating we choose in a theatre, on a plane, you get the picture. It's annoying. I try not to complain too much about it, but know my limitations...in the gym, certain activities, etc. I know so many people with real problems; constant pain by way of fibromyalgia, arthritis, chronic back ache or migraines; even disorders or diseases. I haven't developed any of those officially, but one day I'm sure. One of our big Canadian foundations that recruits for donations to fund research I believe, has a tagline in their commercials something about most of us spending the last 10 years of our life in ill health or pain of some nature. Sad. I just found out last week that one of the guys I used to hook up with last year passed away from cancer in February. So young, so active, so much to live for. Gone. I've heard cancer is painful. He never let on when we were together. Ironically his name was also Kevin. His former roommate and best friend, who I also sleep with was the one who told me, and it got to me a bit. I'm not the most emotional person, strongest, nor am I very smart. But I understand pain and loss; of all sorts. I don't know heartache or heartbreak however. I am no stranger to being there to pick up and glue together broken pieces when girlfriends get hurt. I don't think I could handle it myself. Remember, I am not strong. So maybe my messed up knee means I'll never be able to drive a standard transmission or snowboard if I had any desire, but I feel like I say yes to most things in life that I can, and continue to try and have a passion for life while I still have one to live. Pain can just take itself and shove it, or something about where the sun don't shine, one of those! Toodles

Regrets are a waste of time…they're just the past crippling you in the present

All good things must come to an end. Or must they? Everything old is new again! The circle of life. I could keep going I’m pretty sure. The theory of reincarnation is very appealing to me as a personal belief where the afterlife is concerned. Just makes the inevitable a bit easier to come to terms with I think. When I come back however, am I reborn as a giraffe cause I’m so tall? Nah, I don’t wanna be running away from lions all the time. Or maybe I’m lucky enough to come back as a mosquito. Splat. Often times in our family when we have had a death there soon follows a new little bud on the proverbial tree. Maybe that’s how it works, it stays within? I need an expert to spell this out for me. But then this of course becomes the problem. None of us know what happens after the clock stops. Religion and faith seem to dictate a lot of what folks have as preconceived notions, but who came up with the thought that our souls drift somewhere, this heaven business, etc. They were certainly an influential being. I think Hindu’s believe in reincarnation. They seem a placid folk. From the limited that I have heard, it seems a low key and beautiful religion, but they worship the cow too much. Or are they vegetarians even, I think? I like my red meat, in my belly...but on a pedestal and me praying to it, umm, no. When people ooh and aww over babies or toddlers and say they have ‘an old soul’, is that an indication they’ve been here before? They’ve seen the world a round or two through the eyes of someone else before? Is this a chance to right wrongs, have a do-over to make attempts at milestones missed on the last go? A common expression that annoys me is those who claim to have and live with ‘no regrets’. Hogwash! To me, it’s a handy excuse to either be reckless, lazy or unaccountable. We all wish we made different decisions and actions at some point along our journey. Try as you may to live a perfect and complacent existent, you don’t fool me! The title of this entry although contradictory to what I just professed, was actually introduced to me in a movie script over the days recently during my putting this together. It’s a pleasant thought though I figured would be nice to share, true. I understand that each course has a different reaction thus to our actions and ‘things happen for a reason’ (another ism I’m not too fond of), but what if we do in fact get to circle past home and run another round of bases to see it all fresh again when this life has expired? One of my best friends and I sometimes get gabbing when things get tough about what it would be nice to come back as. She is convinced that coming back as Oprah’s dog would be perfect. I mean seriously, her pooches seem to have quite the luxurious little k-9 lives. I think I’ll put in a request to return as Oprah’s other dog. Woof. Toodles

Sense & Sensitivity

Some time ago, maybe a couple hundred years or so...some lady named Jane I think, maybe Austen, Ayre, Of Ark...or perhaps she was an Emma, or a Bronte? Anyways, she wrote a real famous novel that turned into a screenplay with a similar title as I have named this entry. I have not read the book nor seen the movie, I’m not smart enough to follow what’s going on in those kinda period pieces with big words and outlandish costumes. But what I do know is that I have an open mind, I see what I know, and I say what I feel. In an effort to not intentionally offend, I generally lend my opinion on matters only when asked, and I am far from any sort of activist, rebel or change maker on any subject such as politics, religion, human rights, etc. I do know that I have always stuck to the theory that as long as I always tell the truth I never have to remember anything, and that I don’t have a problem when people are talking about me, good or bad. One thing mum has always ingrained when we were children, and up until now...’as long as they’re talking about you, they are leaving someone else alone’. However, what has always gotten me into trouble; is my sharp tongue. I don’t curse, I don’t raise my voice, and I don’t cite arguments from publications or big fancy books of fact. But I am far from politically correct...ever. I am lazy, and will attach my stubbornness to any excuse to not move a muscle or work hard, and as far as I am concerned...I am always right. Not in a know-it-all kinda way, but in a my-opinion-is-fine-for-my-liking kinda way. This is not to be confused with my attempt to always be first. Since I was a wee one. I talk. A lot. Trash, humour, rumour and sometimes about ideas. Typically in that order. In my mid 20’s when I was finding my voice, myself, and what I suppose my ‘essence’ was...I remember making my first attempt at cutting the negative folks out of my life with dirty aura’s, painstakingly oppressive attitudes in general and ones who are just not worth my time and effort. Fast forward 10 years, and I am now realizing it’s not my duty to figure this out, but theirs. Now, delete them from your ‘friend’ list on social media, and they get tres upset. I’ve had a handful of such experiences in 2013 already so far. Oy vey. Recall that sharp tongue and lazy existence I have from earlier? Well, it’s not easy for some to handle...I’m thankful that I have some great people in my life who stick around and tolerate, are amused/entertained by, or thrive on my shenanigans. Bottom line, if you’re too sensitive to handle how I operate, you must remove yourself from the Kevin equation. With what I’m saying or sharing at any time during our relationship, as long as I’m not putting your life in danger, breaking skin or any laws, please lower your blood pressure and move along. I’m not worth your time or aggravation either, truly. Hanging out with and chatting with a friend and work colleague after hours the other day I told her that I’m not really super fond of one of our co-workers, that I can only take her in small doses. In the same breath I was sure to make it known that I’m fairly aware that I am the type who a lot of folks can only handle in small doses...cause I can be a big personality in this big frame of mine. Without missing a beat, she says to me...and I quote ‘Sorry to break it to you, but with you Kevin, it’s impossible to get you in small doses, you know what I’m saying?’. Shame. I am going to lean on the side of compliment with that one, but I am also rational and I get it. Pfft. When I was in grade school, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that I wasn’t exactly loved by many of my teachers. Some understood me perhaps, and appreciated my stubbornness. But I was mouthy. I liked attention...what? who? huh? I may have snapped my fingers in a zed formation a time or two, and brought out my inner Boonifa every so often, but I knew what I stood for. I finished my work on time, always showed up, kept a super organized desk and I had beautiful handwriting...so really, what you gonna do to me? Just try, I dare ya! It’s a wonder I never ended up in the principal’s office back when, or in my adult life in a cop shop or a special meeting with a CEO...it’s gotta be in part cause I know how to be REALLY nice. Surrounding that sharp tongue is a beautiful welcoming smile, and just above; pleasant eyes. In the days before drawing up one of my entries here, I will often discuss with the folks around me the subject matter and they will lend their thoughts and observations. In one recent such convo the debate came to the difference between sympathy and empathy. Since learning exactly what empathy was during my first ‘career’, I have realized that I’m much better at that. Putting myself in someone else’s space, and then feeling bad. Rather than just feeling bad for them. My little friend happened to think I had it all backwards and still am a horrible person for not feeling for folks in a tough spot. Put on your big girl desensitizing panties now, alright. Another person pointed out that this is just my own version and level of sensitivity and people around me need to also understand that. Exactly. Regardless, I am who I am and it’s unlikely I’ll change anytime soon. I ask that people enter my bubble with an open mind, a generous wallet...i mean heart, and as I told an old family friend recently, I have no interest in confrontation or nonsensical opinions being shared. That sort of thing is to be done behind my back, not in front of my eyes. At the end of it all, have some sense and sensibility. Toodles

On the Grey Matter Of Mice and Men

Not that many years ago there was a song released by Kylie Minogue titled 'All The Lovers', and in listening to it recently on one of my daily online video searches, it became loose inspiration for what I'm about to share with you. Sit tight, cause yes, we're gonna go THERE. But really, the video is quite good. And really, if you don't want to have a glimpse into a small part of my carnal existence, navigate to another screen. This is not meant to be explicit, shocking or intentionally eye opening. I've told you in previous entries that there exists a very specific point A to point Z genre of writing that I've penned, but this is not anywhere close. However, proceed with caution and fair warning my faithful readers. When I first ventured in my mind to put this together I wanted to try and make sure it didn't have me come across as a character similar to Blanche from the Golden Girls or Mona from Who's the Boss, but more like the angle at which Carrie wrote from Sex and the City. Carrie, NOT Samantha. I cleared it with and asked my closest friends for their opinions and thoughts on whether I should even delve, and there was an exceedingly resounding YES! And these are the friends who know much more than I would even dare to put in a public forum such as this. One coined it as being '50 shades of Kevin'...and while I haven't read the trilogy (will be starting shortly), I understand the reference and assure you it's not to be so tawdry. I hope. I have been seeing Michael for years. He's got himself a really established life in a great leafy part of the city, owns his home outright on a beautiful lot, drives a spiffy car, great career that he's worked hard for, etc. When I get out of his bed to make my way to the bathroom and look out the wraparound windows onto the sprawling property where he urges me time and time again to just couple up with him cause 'this could all be mine', 'he wants to take care of me', 'why won't I just say yes to being his boyfriend', blah blah blah, I look back and am reminded of the super needy man that watches me walk away each time. When we chat on the phone he continues to try and I continue to explain I really only want him for one thing. I'm nice about it. Promise. And he gets the picture until the next time I drop by. Mark is another needy one. We spend hours at a time together and although these 2 are part of just a select handful I have spent overnights with (maybe that's the problem), literally the only time I get to myself is in the bathroom when I can justify closing the door. I can't check a phone message, change my clothes or even have a shower without him as my shadow. I can't handle clingy. He's about 6 feet tall, 140 lbs if that; so I can feel every bone under his tight body which I like. He's even one of the guys with whom I express my concern since I'm no featherweight when on top of them, but the skinny and little guys like being wrapped up in all that is moi. It works. But the figuratively clingy; not so much. Brandon is another who prefers to be under me. Honestly, it's typically of no concern to me, but he's also on the slight side. Meh. It's thanks to him though that I have come around over the years to enjoy kissing. Far and above, the best kisser I have been with. Maybe a bit too infatuated with biting my bottom lip, but you know when someone just 'has it' with kissing. I'm sure you can agree, it's not an easy quality to come by. He works in hospitality and has free access to hotel rooms practically up the street from home here. Adventurous and uncomplicated, it all works out well. It wasn't until one of our recent romps when we had finished and were just laying in bed I had his left hand in mine around my shoulder and I felt for the first time, his wedding ring. Truly uncomplicated. I don't ask these questions. One of the married men that I deal with however is a bit more open with me about his family life, child, etc. Matt is an architect and I can only see him when he has a work conference that puts him up at a hotel in the city and thus safely away from the wife. He's another that I've stayed the night with, but I assure you I prefer my own empty bed to actually sleep in. He has, however, brought me around to not disliking cuddling however. At first I would digress and get warm in his arms watching tv or whatever, because he liked it. Then visit after visit it would progress to where now with him and others I practically welcome it. Who knew?!? The only other regular who I know is married to a woman is Anthony. He and his wife are professional ballroom dancers, and he has the body to go along with it. I drop over when the wife is either traveling, with the kid(s) at his mother-in-laws, who knows...like I say, I don't ask these questions. Another adventurous one, it occurred to me on a recent visit he had a mirror added as a headboard, and she probably likes it as much as I do. We all know how much I like my reflection. Seriously. But what I like most about him is that this tall, dark, handsome and very masculine man with quite the commanding presence will lock hands with mine and just let himself be vulnerable when we're in the proverbial tango of a different sort. Alex moved to this country with his long time boyfriend, and while they each know the other plays on the side, it's always amusing to me when one will call the other while I'm there and just check if it's safe to come home or not. It's a bit of a 'what I don't know won't hurt me' situation I guess. The passion with him is oddly intense; in a good way. The apartment door is barely shut and our clothes are off and puddled at the welcome mat. Windows and blinds open to the building across the way, why not! Between rounds however we can quickly cool down and while I stare in awe at the ornate art that covers the bedroom walls from baseboard to ceiling, we talk about anything easily, even watch old videos on youtube of Sophia Lauren, or discuss what he's going to cook for dinner for the two of them...I think he's even invited me to stay and dine. Umm, no. Shawn has his girlfriend and brother both living with him, and of course this can be tricky, but he has been making it work. Our coordination has always been pretty calculated, and even though he has a demanding career he often will ask me to stay just an hour longer despite the fact that he has to get up super early. Over the years he's seen me try one career after another and is really sweet in trying to get me to focus on what I want to do with my life. He's a talker. Some of them just are. John is not. We say very few words in person. He's an airline pilot, and whether it's a theme or not, he ironically has a pet bird in his living room. I'm thankful that the cage is covered when I get there, cause I'm pretty sure I haven't let him in on my fear of the things. He's probably the only person I know more turned on by having his neck worked on than I. Can I get a shout out to the neck lovers of the world, please! Sometimes there's a bit too much love however. Nate will sometimes leave me with hickies, as if I'm pre-teen Alyssa Milano from Who's the Boss in an iconic episode I remember (there's a reference to the show again). I'm no longer 12. But it's cute enough I guess. He's away for school right now, but just last week I got a message from him saying he misses my height and kisses. In my world, height is a rarity, it gets me places. Nate is the only one that I have allowed to crossover from just benefits to friends et al. We will actually spend time together out and about sans sex, with perhaps an ass grab here and there, but it's quite rare to be perfectly honest. Bradley is one of very few guys I've ever gotten butterflies for when I see him coming my way. I don't have a thing for eyes, but his are so blue and striking, and he's so into eye contact that I just can't resist. His exhibitionist side makes our meetings a bit of a thrill too. We've been known to put on a show or two to a viewing audience, if you will. Another hook up that is really into eye contact is Sam. He's well connected in the fashion and entertainment circles of Toronto, and the stories are always amusing. Always the daring one with locations, we've even unfortunately had some law enforcement intervention. That's an in person story if you so desire to ask. I see Sam most often. Living in your parents house means it's rare that one can have guys visit. Jimmy and I have to be creative with where we meet up, but he has been able to come by the house every so often. When I write these entries, clean my bathroom, and apparently, sleep with Jimmy, I have the satellite radio on. Commercial free. Sets the rhythm. You know how it is. Turns out he's really into music after all. Now he's got a gym fit body, arms and a chest near perfection, and has really gotten me into his love for Owl City. He wants me to continue to get healthy and sends me his favourite song lists for workouts at the gym. It's nice. He's really concerned with discretion, but not as much as Wes. At first he would wear a hoodie, his room lit only by the street lamps outside. As time has gone on he's been more relaxed and trusting, letting me see his full self, face and all along with his tight 22 year old body. Entry tactics into his building remain low key, literally. When I arrive he ties his condo fob in a scarf and chucks it down to me from his 10th floor balcony, asking me to pretend I'm on the phone when I pass the front desk security. It's cute. The DL guys are possibly the best. Behind the baggy knee length t-shirts, gold chains and fur lined hats lie sensitive, soft spoken and whether it be inquisitive or curious guys, ones who like man-on-man sex. Chris is one of them. When he and I get together, it's great, cause he's over 6 feet tall. Again, a rarity. Only 21, but with soft lips that like nothing more than to start at the nape of my neck and trail down the length of my spine. For this and many other reasons, he remains a top 5 for me. Erik just moved here a couple of years ago because of his involvement with (and now safety from) the gangs in the Bronx. He's a talker. Also 21 or 22, he has the proverbial abs I can wash my wares on and I swear when I have my hands around his waist my fingertips almost touch. A real thin one this one. But also into the holding of hands while we're at it...like I say, the DL guys are great. There is of course however something to be said for experience. When I go over and see Rob in his penthouse, his confidence and proof that this ain't his first rodeo are appreciated. It dawned on me after being there a few times that his headboard against the wall made quite the racket when we were, umm, busy. For discretion and friendly neighbours sake I questioned him on this, only to remember that it's an end unit and so an outside wall. See, even I can be thoughtful sometimes! It's become trickier now that he has taken in his son from the ex-wife. Oh what a tangled web we weave. So there's a peak. In no way do I consider myself the equivalent of a man-mistress to, nor am I 'in love with' any of these recurring cast of players in my extracurricular world. Upon writing and sharing this, I expect to be judged. That's not going to change in the next 33 years, nor in the almost 33 I've lived. I am what I am, I write what I think and know, and who knew, just one little song. Now go watch the video! Toodles

Slither and Dither

Is 'resolve' the root word of resolution? I hope so. Cause I certainly used it in that context recently. It's the cusp of a new year, flip the fresh page on the calendar and start your engines with a full tank of fuel to lead you. Gas smells bad. Give it some time, all those things you listed in the drunken stuper while watching the ball drop will likely fade and be forgotten in a couple weeks. Although I unintentionally am fairly unconventional in most regards, I have to admit that subconsciously there are some resolutions I've got listed in the back of my mind in this oh so lucky year of 2013. Everyone's topper of course is the weight loss attempt and fail. Check. I was kinda thinking today as I accumulated a puddle of sweat at my feet in our body combat class at the gym that maybe I could lose a pound a week for the year? That's about where I think I would be comfortable; another 50 or so down. But who are we kidding. I wanted McDonalds all day for the last 2 in succession, and right after the gym Fatty sailed on thru the golden arches and chowed down! Grilled chicken, ok...and didn't upsize the fries...but these are not acceptable really. I would like to eat less red meat. I don't think it's very good for you: but poultry is so dry, and fish is so smelly. Meh. Less diet coke is a lost cause. I love it like I love my opposable thumbs. Until my teeth start falling apart I don't think DC is going anywhere fast outta my daily repertoire: just so we're clear. I want to try and write more. Bit of a win here, as this is a good start, and I posted just a handful of days ago as well as having another in the works inside this pea brain of mine. Stay tuned; it's a doozy. I will not stop putting myself down. See DC reference. Making first contact is a problem for me. I want to try and start sending the first text, email or phone call. It's a part of my selfish nature I think. And that I should try and work on too, but again; no promises. The first step is recognizing you have a problem? Ok, let's go with that for now before I go all crazy with trying to dream up clever hello's and asking useless annoying questions via your electronic devices. De-cluttering has been on my mind. Less stuff makes sense. I ain't about to go all minimalist or nothin', but piles, boxes and drawers full of crap isn't necessary really. Gotta hunker down on that 20/80 rule of only wearing 20% of your clothes 80% of the time. I would like 80% of my closet back please. And they are tiny in this house! Performers in the subway, legit homeless folks or ones I can clearly see are down on their luck no longer deserve my ignorance or sorry's delivered from my glare high above and straight down my big pointy judgmental nose. I am going to carry change in my pocket and contribute to the open empty guitar cases, dry coffee cups and upside down brim held baseball caps. That Karma biznatch might be kept happy and overlook me later on for this I'm hoping. The irony, and completely nonsensical counter to this is that I am planning to aggressively tackle my debt this year. I have done extremely well so far by adding on $1K each month recently to my minimum payments. Bu-bye money. I eat out a lot. I have a lot of debt. Shut up. And no, I won't eat out less. I like it. My friends like it. We like to be served. Is Lent like New Year's resolutions? Kinda, right? I never stuck with whatever I had to give up for those 40 days of whatever it is either I'm pretty sure. Gawd we set a lot of expectations for ourselves, eh?!? I was gonna try and not post any self pics this year on FB. Can you imagine? Best we start with working on the inside and moving to the out. It's only a small matter of time before you see my mug and/or me making folks pose up with me. Scrap that one; I think. Resolve however we can and wish, start our little engines that could and get this 2013 year of the snake on a roll. Snake, that can't be good. Toodes

Cup of Sugar?

There is apparently a very popular Australian soap opera with the single word title 'Neighbours' that I hear a lot about now that we have an onslaught of actors from that nation filling our magazines where I read their bio's. Seems everyone gets their start on that show down under. Very simple show name, like our North American gem 'Friends'. A single word that can go many ways with characters to be intertwined and stories to be told. Much like this following post on my thoughts du jour. Not that long ago I was in the backyard here at home and heard the lady next door calling her dogs to come inside. Now I'll be honest I don't really pay much attention to my neighbours or attempt to get to to know them very well...I exchange pleasantries if I'm spoken to or acknowledge with a wave if I accidentally make eye contact while we're mutually getting into each others cars, etc. but ultimately you respect my space, privacy, and perhaps ask to borrow a hedge trimmer or correct wrongly delivered mail once in a while and let's call our relationship a good one, alright? Great! Now their dogs are funny looking. I who happen to be fairly educated on dogs knew their cross the second they moved in about 4 or 5 years ago. Picture a caramel coloured twin set of curious, solidly built little canines about as high as your knee...flat snout and coiled tails like a pug, ears and body composition like a beagle. Ok, they're cute enough. I'm a sucker for themes and even more for animals that have people names so when for the first time after a half decade I learn these little dogs are called...wait for it...Rocky and Adrian as she's calling out to them, I have to admit the middle aged Italian/French couple got a bit more interesting. I haven't even seen the movies, don't think I would like the franchise based on the bloody fighting genre, but a good love story is always welcome, and so maybe I need to take a page out of their book and give the old boxing flick a go. Tim the tool man Taylor used to seek advice and solace from the Hi-dee-ho Wilson dude next door, and while I'm not about to attend the annual corn roast hosted by the folks we share a yard with, or dig deep with them over a fence on how to right the woe's of the world...they sure are better than having crusty street mates. And Rocky and Adrian? Clever! Not sure why I'm so fascinated by this. So; back to crusty. We've all had them, heard of them, some even try to screen via realtors; the nasty, nosy, from-hell neighbour! We live in a somewhat mature neighbourhood, are the 5th house in from the main road and of the first 9 on the block I would say about 5 or 6 of the homes still have the same original owners from the early 70's. Opposite side of Rocky & Adrian's parents my family and I had to endure quite a doozy. This man would complain, grunt, yell, was just miserable about everything! My sister bounced her basketball too loud or my parents had too much junk (ok, which is true). He never let up! If anything, he did happen to dispel the old saying that 'only the good die young' cause he kicked the bucket a decade ago or so, and his brother who lives 3 doors down is a kind and generous man who is one of those super-oldies who still golfs, takes care of his home, I think maybe even still has a career; and they would be octogenarians or somewhere close. "Ya, for my 80 year old neighbours"...that was a response I got from a friend of mine who had just come in from mowing his lawn and told me he was wearing a wifebeater but neglected to apply sunscreen to his shoulders and of course was now burnt. sad face. I told him that at least he was giving the married ladies in the hood a nice view while he was out there working hard. Guess he's only got oldies around him. Ok, back to bad neighbour stories. A good friend of mine recently sold her freehold townhouse in suburbia, on a family friendly street where she unfortunately had to share a driveway with a home stacked full on one side of her. Their lane way was not itsy bitsy, and while my friend had just a cute little sportscar and no other vehicles in the drive unless folks were visiting, her neighbours used and abused theirs. Six vehicles in a space designed for 2 is not cool, nor is using an albeit reluctantly but amazingly agreeable single girl next doors drive to jockey cars and swing into spots all the while not a single gesture to clear the snow every so often or offer a thanks for being so passive about it all. Let's not even go into the wall thumping gujarati music ho-downs that would emanate and drive her mad! Or the story a co-worker once told me of her sharing an apartment bedroom wall with a young man who was clearly a drug addict or dealer or what have you...always hearing him groaning, moaning, carrying on and disturbing the peace. Awkward when she finds out that months later he actually works with us too. Oy. Now this is not to say that we don't have good experiences as well. My mother still raves about her childhood friends in the tight Beaches area of the city that she grew up in, still sees some of them and is forever telling stories of yesteryear. I can remember having a few great summers with my best little friends, who between the 4 of us all lived within 15 or so houses in either direction from my place, our only concern was following the rule that I had to be home before the street lights turned on. Many folks have great long lasting relationships and build incredible friendships with their neighbours. I find it's also not unusual for families to buy houses in very close proximity either semi-detached, on the same street or within a couple over from each other. Their own space but close enough to have a sense of security and unity I suppose. It can't always be a pretty picture such as that painted on the Hollywood screen where the folks on light bright cul-de-sacs have block parties, street sales and meet at church every Sunday. But we can keep up with the Jones' when need be. I can even quickly recall 3 couples who I know have married their neighbours...whether they met at the loft board meeting, or because one's condo unit was burned badly by a fire and the gallant man upstairs came to the rescue, or because a woman and man living next door both found themselves widowed and thus in love again. All true stories. All sweet like a good wine. Wine; always a good offering to neighbours to keep the peace. Whatever the case may be, we take what we've moved in next to and make the best of it. Adriaaaaaaaan!!! Toodles