Everybody's heard about the bird

I enjoyed an exhilarating run this evening after work - one of those runs where I actually got "in the zone" and felt true mental clarity I seem to only achieve while running (note to self: install a treadmill in office at work).

I ran on a paved trail less than two miles from my house. It is one of my usual running spots because I can stop there on my way home from work to get a run in and because it is so close to home.

On the post-run drive home, I followed a beaten up Buick down a narrow city road. We stopped at a red light. The light turned green but the Buick didn't budge.

In my neighborhood this could mean a number of things, including but not limited to: the car stalling out at the light because the car is such a piece; a broken turn signal because the car is such a piece; operator error because the driver is drunk or high (this is my neighborhood, after all). Irritated that we were just sitting at a green light - and suspecting the beaten Buick intended to turn left but the driver just didn't feel like using a turn signal - I beeped my horn.

What happened next was surreal.

As the horn blew, a tiny brown hand emerged in the back window. Clearly the hand of a toddler in a car seat. Then, the tiny middle finger slowly unfolded.

I had a flash of Mini Me giving Austin Powers the finger.

This was even worse. Because it was a toddler.

Yes, I was flipped off by a toddler.

Nothing says welcome to my neighborhood like being flipped off by a kid in a car seat.

You and I ( You, you and I)

We.

Single girls only use that term when talking about hanging out with their girlfriends. The term "we" is rarely used in mundane but oh-so grown up phrases such as, "We went to church and then the grocery store" or "We cooked a wonderful dinner, ate and did the dishes."

For a short period of time one of my single friends thought she could be a "we."

Why you ask? Well, she thought she had a parasite.

Turns out she doesn't, but she got the news after she went ahead and named it.

We had a lot of fun talking about all the things she and her parasite could have done together, turning her from a "me" to a "we."

Personally, I'm sad I have no excuse to write her a poem I planned to title "My Parasite and Me."

Ho hum. Better luck next time.

I call it a toilet, you call it a fountain

To-mato, tom-ato, po-tato, pot-tato...toilet, fountain?

A couple of weeks ago I walked the 'hood looking for potential housing violations. Ok, I was actually walking to the local pub to meet a friend for a beer but it was a great excuse to look for housing violations.

I found one that I thought was a real zinger, too: A home with a toilet and a sink in the front yard.

Gross, right?

In retrospect, the toilet and sink seemed strategically placed but, really, who would purposely have a toilet and a sink in their front yard?

Someone in my neighborhood, of course.

Tonight at my neighborhood association meeting my community organizer informed me she filed the report of the toilet and sink to the city. When they investigated they discovered the toilet and sink are a fountain.

Yes, a fountain.

Someone apparently had the brilliant idea to say, "Hey, I know what I'll do with this old sink and toilet, I'll turn it into a fountain system because it will look lovely as a permanent fixture in my front yard!"

And, the kicker? I know, you're wondering how this could get any better. The kicker: It has been there for eight years.

Eight years.

And I'm the first person to complain about it.

And, since these items are "a fountain" they can stay.

Lay off that whiskey and let that cocaine be (another day at Family Pantry)

Spring arrived in the 'hood today! The warm weather wasn't the only indication - the other indication was the fact that the streets were crawling with 'hood rats as I made my way home. I knew I needed to get a run in today and had a gut feeling any run through my neighborhood would be nothing short of an action-packed adventure. After all, the warm weather always brings out the freaks.

Toward the end of my run a Michigan State Police SUV flew through a stop sign and I knew something was up. I know my 'hood well so I knew exactly where he was heading - the Family Pantry. Family Pantry is this really trashy "convenience" store in my neighborhood where you can get your smokes, Jack Daniels and lottery tickets with your Bridge card. For your convenience you can also buy crack here. Quite possibly with your Bridge card. Yes, it is crack central. Every week my crime report shows an arrest (or two) for selling crack in the parking lot. After awhile you would think the drug dealers would "get it" but, alas, they don't (perhaps they are smoking too much crack themselves).

As I turned the corner near the Family Pantry, sure enough

Not just the city police - the state police had descended upon the Family Pantry. This is serious, right? Of course, I had to walk by for a closer look.

All these crazy people were still there mulling around in the parking lot, while an officer slapped a purple latex glove on his hand and another stood there in a bullet proof vest scanning the crowd. Purple glove was searching this tan car owned by this woman -

Yes, that is her and her CHILDREN. And she's sporting a shirt that says "Vagina is for Lovers." Yes, "Vagina" not "Virginia."

Nothing but class here in my neighborhood. Of course, I was helping to "class up" the joint as I stood across the street from this scene snapping photos and giggling like a school girl looking at a Ryan Reynolds calendar.

As I nearly tripped on an empty Five O'Clock Vodka bottle on the sidewalk I simply smiled. After a long day in Indiana, it sure felt great to be home!

Shanequa dont live here no mo' (It's a party in the USA)

Last May I found a special surprise is my backyard. Yes, it was made of latex and contained DNA.

However, today it's a party in the USA (or just the 'hood) because my trashy neighbors are gone! I spotted the them sort of packing up some things last week but didn't want to get my hopes up. However, today my suspicions were confirmed - they are gone! The newspaper they used for curtains (no joke) is torn down, the mail is overflowing out of the mailbox and a Wal-Mart quality entertainment center has been abandoned on the front porch.

The condom tossers have left the building (or the block)!

So yes, things are looking good. One set of trashy neighbors gone..."My 600lb Life" has come to an end, therefore, my exercise is back to normal rather than compulsive...no Kate Spade sales (but Banana Republic had 50 percent off on Oscar Sunday - win one for Devil Jen)...and the mild weather has allowed me to walk the neighborhood more and, therefore, report lots of housing violations (couches on lawns, wood in place of windows, etc.). Hey - someone has to put the smack down here in the 'hood. Just wait because my "mobile watch" starts back up in two months - I can't wait to cruise the neighborhood from midnight to 3 a.m. with my fellow honorary crime fighters, including my favorite gun-toting octogenarian Gerri, the clerk at my local Walgreen's!

On a side note - someone asked if I'm still watching "General Hospital" on You Tube and the (sad) answer is yes. I'm on part 436...just 381 clips to go. Sadly, I think it is all downhill for my favorite super couple from here on out but I must stick with the storyline. I've invested (wasted) too much time! However, I really need to put an end to this because just the other weekend I used a 1989 GH reference in conversation like the other person should know what I was talking about. We were at a downtown breakfast spot, I paid with a 20 dollar bill and the cashier marked it with a pen to ensure it was legit. As this was happening, I turned to my friend and said, "Just like Jimmy and the phony 20s." As she made the "what the hell are you talking about" face I realized my faux pas and had to explain I had just made a 23 year old soap opera reference. Welcome to loserville, population one - me!