Like Clint Eastwood from Gran Torino, but Cooler….and Not Dead

You know how you meet someone for the first time, and you think WOW.  This person is going to either annoy the hell out of me, or become my new friend.

Meet Izzy. If I ever had a polar opposite, Izzy is it.  She is loud, boisterous and brash.  She is short, plump and very devil may care.  (Her first words to me were to grab my waist and say, “Damn girl, your legs could be a push-up bra for me….come here!”  To this, I recoiled and looked at her with a mix of fear and amusement.)

Izzy is like Marci….but without the biting or ED.

Turns out? She’s hysterically funny and totally fearless.  Rest assured, there will be a blog post whenever I encounter Miss Izzy.

The entire night was spent in stitches from Izzy. My favorite story of the night is as follows.


Izzy lives in the roughest neighborhood in town.  This is a foul place creeping with drug dealers, gangs and violence.  Izzy’s house?  3,000 sq. ft.  on a corner lot with a huge yard.  Price? $200,000.  That was years back when the housing market was peaking….does that tell you how ghetto it is?  Izzy was new here, she had no idea what she’d gotten in to.

Izzy:  The first day I moved in, there was some rap song that sampled ‘Whistle While You Work’.  You know….like from Snow White?  The whole time I’m moving in, I hear these guys humming and whistling it.

My first thought? Wow! I’ve moved to Disneyland!  This is lovely!

But I was wrong.  Drug dealers and screaming kept me up for weeks.  Then I got an idea.

I bought two massive speakers and put them in my upstairs windows.  Then, I bought Mary Poppins and The Essential John Denver CDs.  Triggered by motion sensors, I blared Supercalifragilisticexpiealidocious, Chim Chim Cher-ee, Sunshine on My Shoulders, Country Roads every time someone entered my property line….it was madness.

But, you know what?  No human can be thugtastic when those tunes are spinning.

They fled from my yard like rats in The Pied Piper of Hamelin.

After a few months, the gangs got more used to the tunes and the spaces where the motion detection didn’t trip.  I had to just play them 24/7.  I bought earplugs.

Then, I turned to fox urine.  Have you ever smelled fox urine?  It’s potent.  It’s like skunk and burnt rubber had a baby.  I doused my yard in the stuff.

You know what?  Not only was I free of random animals like squirrels, but the gangs didn’t like it either.  Again, you can’t be thugtastic if it smells like ass.

So, I’m pleased to say they have given up.  I don’t blare music anymore, but I keep the speakers up as a warning, and on occasion I’ll re-up the fox urine….as reminders.

There is a rumor running that the yard is booby-trapped.  It’s not….but if it keeps my yard safe?  I’m cool with it.  They even pull their pants up around me now and wave like polite men.  I feel like Clint Eastwood from Gran Torino, but cooler….and not dead.


Cheers Izzy.  Bless your heart.



  1. Pingback: I’m Not Sure How I Feel About That « Stuff I Can't Put On Facebook's Blog

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