Eigentlich wollte ich nur “Plumbers Crack” nachsehen…

Gefunden habe ich: http://decadentpublishing.blogspot.com. Wendy weiß natürlich, was sich gehört. Vor allem für andere und deswegen ist Wendy ganz arg entrüstet, weil der Plebs in ihre Sackgassenprivatstraße eingezogen ist und sich nicht angemessen benimmt. Wahrscheinlich sinkt demnächst auch noch der Wert der Immobilien. Ist das nett, wenn sich eine reiche Amerikanerin mal ordentlich aufregt und darüber bloggt.

Is there no shame? (Or – PUT ON SOME PANTS!) by Wendy Burke

My mother used to say about a neighbor as he worked in his garden, “The MOON is out early today!” Needless to say, said neighbor usually wandered about is yard with the most hideous plumber’s crack known to man. Problem was – A) he wasn’t a plumber and B) I’m thinkin’ he didn’t even know it.   I know, I know, ‘Where the hell are you going with this Wendy?!’ Hear me out.

My huz and I live in a townhouse condominium complex, on a nice long cul-de-sac, complete with (just recently – those condo association trustees are so clever!) a PRIVATE ROAD sign at the entrance. The turnover in this complex is minimal – we’ve been here almost twenty years. I digress – which is common for my Wild Wednesdays — Awhile back, the ‘Clampetts’ moved in across the drive from us. Well, at least that’s when my dear betrothed has deemed them. 

Unfortunately, it’s in name only, as ‘cee-ment ponds’ are not allowed in our complex. The moniker begins with the fact that most of their stuff for some time was stored in the driveway and once inside the double garage, could be seen trying to bust its way out! I don’t have any problem with ‘The Clampetts,’ I’m really not outside enough to socialize. But there is one problem, which I’m sure won’t be addressed by our illustrious condo association – ‘Mrs. Clampett’ doesn’t wear pants! Now, I know ole sweet Granny on the TV show was always properly attired  -on occasion, Elly May was skimpily dressed for the times – and Jethro was shirtless now and again….but this woman DOESN’T WEAR PANTS!

I know you’re sayin’, ‘How the heck do you know that, Wen, and WHY are you dwelling on it?’ Well, the huz leaves for work at about 630. Mrs. Clampett has a habit of going out into her garage, with the big double-door open, to grab a first-of-the-day smoke and yak on her cell phone (loudly) at that time.  (She’s out there every day without fail, regardless of temperature – she’s been out there in a blizzard!) Usually she’s attired in one of many house-dresses/nightgowns she has in her ready stash. 
Let me be the first to say, I don’t have a body like Elle McPherson, I’m not nearly as cute as, say, Rachel McAdams. Yes, I’m a bit self-conscious about my ‘zaftig-ness’ – so, I’m careful to cover anything I wouldn’t want to look at, let alone the public. Maybe she’s comfortable in her complete ‘naturalness,’ but do we have to be subjected to it?
Her home is obviously her realm and she doesn’t give a crap (or doesn’t know) and doesn’t realize the horrendous mental anguish she’s inflicting upon poor leaving-for-work men as she ‘tupples’ around outside at that hour, dressed as she is.

I’m getting ready for work one morning and the phone rings. I see it’s my huz on his cell phone and when I answer, ‘Yah?’, all he can give me is a huge ‘OH!’ a la Tony Soprano, then launches into the story about getting a full posterior view on the way out of the garage this morning as ‘Frau Clampett’ (as he calls her) decided to weed the flowerbed at 630 AM and bent over in her ‘housedress’ to give my huz a not-so-stunning view of the WAZZER VALLEY!  (Ah, I think you get my drift!) ‘OH!’ indeed.

(Thanks to Frau Clampett, my huz now wears completely dark ‘cataract’ glasses when he leaves the house – he’s concerned about a ‘relapse,’ as she continues to waltz about her domain in such a state. Although, I am thinking, the blue nylon spaghetti-strapped number she wears on every Tuesday is becoming my favorite.) Anyway, that’s why I ask, ‘Is there no shame?’ It’s the same with people (male and female) who think ‘muffintops’ are the latest in haute couture and the word ‘sassy’ stretched across their size-18-stuffed-in-a-size-4 pair of sweats is ‘cute.’ As my dear pal, Fred, from Queens, New York once commented as were standing in Herald Square people-watching, ‘Nice outfit, did it come in your size?’  Then, there’s the ‘flannel brigade.’ I love flannel – I have nothing against flannel, I’m wearing flannel right now. BUT – c’mon people, can’t you get dressed to go in public? Really, if you’re 18-35 (or older) and you go to the grocery in your Sponge Bob flannel jammy pants and slippers, sorry, you are not cool….IMHO.  But – at least you ARE wearing pants!