Yoga-Pants-Wife and hold the Blue Bins… (more comedy from Bad Girl)

By Melodie Campbell

I was watering the lawn the other day when I made this profound observation: names are completely irrelevant when you live in the suburbs.  Here’s a typical weekend conversation around our house:

DH (translates to Dear Husband, or – ahem - Dumb Husband, whichever fits the mood):  “I was just talking to Riley’s parents.  Did you know that Ollie’s family has moved away?”

Me:  “Riley the Sheepdog, or Riley the Beagle?”

DH:  “Sheepdog. The people who live beside the guy with the three blue bins.”

Me:  “I hate what their neighbours have done to their backyard.”

DH:  “The couple with the two hot tubs?”

Me:  “No.  On the other side.”

DH:  “The blue garage door people.”

Me:  “Right.  Eddie says they bought a huge trampoline.”

DH:  “Who’s Eddie?”

Me:  “Married to yoga-pants-wife who drives the red Porsche.”

DH:  “Oh. That jerk. The guy who waters his lawn on banned days.”

Me:  “No, that’s the jerk next door to him. The house with all the windows.

DH:  “Huh?”

Me:  “Across from the people with the cats.”

DH:  “Oh. I know who you mean. Beside the garage sale people.”

Me:  “That’s right.  They’re always having garage sales.” 

DH:  “That’s where Ollie used to live.  Wonder how much they got for that place?”

Me:  “Ollie the black Lab or Ollie the Pomeranian?”

Which begs the questions…I wonder what they call us?)