Recently, I asked the question...
"If life were an episode of SURVIVOR and you could vote one person off, who would it be and why?"
The answers varied. Some people pounced on the question. Others avoided it.
Some responses were clever and quite humorous, while others were down right diabolical.
I stressed that the question did not perpetuate violence. The person voted off would be asked to leave immediately, but would not be harmed in any way. This was an act of empowerment.
Some people asked questions. They wanted to know where the downcast degenerates were going. Were the accommodations luxurious? Would there be chores? What would the typical day of an ostracized individual be like? Would they be joined by others and how long would they remain there?
Clearly some people over thought this and I, was one of them.
After several mindful cocktails, I narrowed my choice down to 3 people.
The first is an unreasonable, egocentric client. I cringe at the thought of our posture perfect meetings. The pickled pitch of his piss and vinegar voicemails and open ended emails are exasperating. There is no way I can please him - nothing I do is good enough. Despite my professionalism, or maybe because of it, he treats me like a disobedient dog.
The second, is a well ridden, over baked, soul sucking, psychopathic, once-upon-a-time homecoming queen, who destroyed a 35 year friendship by jumping into a one night stand with the openly declared, love of my life, when our courtship took a brief intermission. She told me, "I'll get you two back together!" She told him, "You'll like ME better."
The third is my downstairs neighbor - a grumpy, member of the Good Old Boys. This curt, curmudgeon interprets any given moment as utter misery. Even his dog looks depressed. If the sun is shining and the birds are singing, he'll squint hard and complain they crapped on his car. He has solutions for all of life's problems but doesn't care to implement any of them. His way is the right-winged, right way, and if you're misguided enough to stand at his attention, he'll insist you "get his drift."
So... which one did I choose?
As difficult and as demanding as my client is, I knew I couldn't vote him off because he's a client. I need all my clients - even the beastly, backbreaking ones.
As for the neighbor, he slams the front door hard enough for me to know when he's coming. Besides, who would take his place? The thought of a racy, well endowed divorcee, thriving on a diet of home cooked curry, is enough to force me into seeing the sunny side of Mr. Grumpy.
That leaves the de-friended, psychotic succubus, right? She does seem the obvious choice, and it would have been a slam dunk if a jaded lover hadn't already voted her off.
I started thinking BIG.
Sarah Palin, Osama Bin Laden, Bill O'Reilly, Lindsey Lohan...
But I figured, given enough time and rope, they'd probably vote themselves off.
My head was spinning. Everyone's choice was straight forward and simple, except for mine.
Until one cold, bitter night, when a depraved, deviant, soiled the freshly fallen snow of a sleepy, coastal Connecticut town.
Somewhere between the hours of 11:31 pm and 5:25 am, in the height of a bellowing full moon, a callous crime was committed.
Someone snatched the wreath from my front door.
It was round, approximately 24" in diameter and was punctuated with noble fir, blueberry juniper, incense cedar and three, ponderosa pine cones. There was no bow.
It was NOT dead. It was not thriving, but it was not past its prime.
It was doubled wired to an ornate, wrought iron wreath holder that was screwed into our storm door's hardware.
The perpetrator took his time.
An inspection of our dumpster, along with trash receptacles in a 2 mile radius, showed no evidence of the crime. After interviewing neighbors, I discovered this was a crime of large proportions - 12 other wreaths were missing.
What pissed me off the most is that someone not only stole my wreath, they stole my thunder.
I AM THE WREATH POLICE!!!
Every year, a week before Easter, I put on my bunny uniform - grab my handcuffs, whistle and official bunny badge, and comb the neighborhood for outdated holiday decor.
Lights, garland, wreaths, deflatable Christmas characters, baby Jesus's, all warrant a cleverly worded citation.
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Feeling underwhelmed by the lack of warmth and sunlight?
Hands always free when you walk in or out of the door?
Call 1-800-LAZY ASS
We'll gladly dispose of your holiday eyesores.
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But I never steal our neighbors belongings, no matter how tacky or tattered, and I certainly don't go on patrol before Valentines day or even Saint Patricks Day. I patiently wait for the crocus's to POP.
Once I found a rotten pumpkin, on the third stoop of a slippery step. I would have been doing them a favor by tossing out their jack-o-lantern, but even this constitutes a crime, punishable by law, and worse - my name, front page in the police blotter.
As of today, the assailants identity is still unknown.
But that doesn't mean I can't vote him off the island.
And because I assume my wreath was considered an eyesore, I've replaced it.
It's wired tight, alarmed with sound, and sure to catch everyone's attention.
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