and the pervert award goes to....

...The three year old kid that lives next door to us. Why? Because earlier I was out back with Reilly and the child kept yelling "hey, hey, hey" to me as I proceeded to ignore him as he came closer and closer to the fence. Reilly began growling ferociously (neither of our doggies can stand the family that lives there) and I went ahead and looked up just as the kid disrobed from his shorts and underclothing and was yelling to me, "TOUCH! TOUCH!". Oh my God but that was just too much. I grabbed the snarling Reilly up and ran inside and told Greg all about it. I pondered briefly on going to their door and telling the parents, however the Dad would most likely *enjoy* me telling about how his son exposed himself to me. So I scrapped the idea. A bit later Greg went out to cut the grass and the kid ran over to the fence calling to him as well. Luckily Greg did not look at him and headed to the front yard, thus saving his eyes from such an image.

Rewind to when we first moved here last summer. The Dad over there was far too interested in trying to talk to us. They are not the brightest people in the bunch, and even their young kids are in remedial classes in primary school, which I think is incredibly sad. That fact also backs up my theory that people with IQ's of less than, hmm, let's say 70 should most likely not breed. And these people have bred, three times to be exact. The mother loves to stare at us whenever we are going to and from our car, and it's that kind of open-mouthed stare. It is very creepy. The Dad, we discovered, enjoys sitting in his beloved 1980-something Suburban and yeah, just SIT THERE. For hours. Looking at some type of magazine. Sometimes he has the oldest daughter (age 8) sitting out there with him. Sometimes he has the wife out there with him, while the three kids are inside. Sometimes the wife is sitting out there as what we seem to figure is some type of punishment he inflicts upon her. OK, just plain weird. He will look you up and down if you are a female and within seeing distance of him. He will sit on their patio in nothing but underwear and call over to Greg. So, you get the picture. Needless to say we do our best to avoid them at all costs.

Fast forward to this past Sunday. I was in the bedroom putting up some laundry and unfortunately our bedroom window is right up against their driveway. I noticed Creepy Man was out in his Suburban with the windows rolled up so I closed the blinds. His wife was also sitting obediantly in the backseat. We have the feeling he comes from this ethic of man is way smarter than woman and man should dominate woman. Anyway, I'm busy doing my tasks and I hear this roaring, absolute screaming coming from outside. It scared me to death, and immediately the dogs came flying in there to see what was going on, their fur bristled as they began growling at the window towards Creepy Man's car. I peeked out there and he is ranting on and on, hands flying in the air with all kinds of severe gestures to reiterate whatever he was yelling to his wife... while looking at her through the rear view mirror. This was just too bizarre. Greg and I peeked out again as Mr. Creepy Man turned into Mr. Creepy Very Angry Man and proceeded to slam his car door and stomp inside. His wife, who moves about as fast as a sloth, slowly got out of the Suburban with her nose glued to the page of a catalogue and ever so slowly walked inside their house. The kids were left to their own devices during this episode and I must also tell you, our windows were closed, so that just shows you how loud this guy was yelling.

Getting back to the perverted show demonstrated by the kid earlier today....let's just say it doesn't take a genius mind to figure out where he learned such an act. We cannot get out of here quick enough.

On a more delightful note, hockey fever is running rampant around here. We are getting closer to the Stanley Cup and our favourite team of all time (Detroit) is playing against Calgary for the Western Conference semi finals. WooHoo. Come on RedWings. On a reminiscent note, alot of people like to remind me of how at the end of my pregnancy with Clare in 1997, I was so huge the only thing that I could really fit into (and that was stretching it, literally) was my XXX-Large Detroit hockey jerseys. I can proudly say they hang on me like dresses now. Ha.

Last night Greg and I were severe night owls and stayed up for the Colorado/San Jose game. It went into overtime and by 1am I was half asleep on the sofa but still rooting for Colorado. For you fellow Detroit fans you know this is absolute blasphemy, rooting for Colorado. Greg about keeled over when he heard I was rooting for them. But hey, we DID live in Colorado for some time, so I feel a certain tie to the state. Don't worry, if it comes down to Detroit and Colorado in the next finals, I will be rooting for Detroit for sure. I saw Greg cheer when Colorado won in overtime though, so if I am going to the fire so is he.

My prediction for final teams going into the Stanley Cup playoff finals:

San Jose and Tampa Bay. As much as I want Detroit to win it again, I just don't think it is going to happen. I will keep praying for a miracle though....