Dead Rat

Our greatest neighborhood allies are the Perfects next door. When I bought this house in The Year of Our Lord Eleventy Hundred, I was too intimidated to talk to them because they were, well, perfect. So instead I just spent like three years doing a lot of embarrassing things in front of them without affording myself the opportunity to explain.

A big part of the reason I didn't cultivate much of a relationship with them is because I just assumed they wouldn't want me to bother them with my boring self. This is a thing I assume about everyone always. It's very healthy and for sure not in need of therapy.

Then Jon Skylar Westerdahl moved into my house. Skylar is the opposite of me. It doesn't even occur to him that someone wouldn't be interested in talking to him. And it's not like he's arrogant about it. He doesn't necessarily assume everyone will love him either. He just doesn't care. He barges into the lives of everyone he sees and decides that if they don't want him, it's their burden to get rid of him. 

Within days of him living in this house, he was in the Perfects's''ses' front yard arm-in-arm with all four of them and the dog, laughing and creating memories. Suddenly they were coming to parties at our house and helping us with our gardening. We became "can you water the flowers while we're out of town" neighbors for each other. They texted us immediately after the earthquake earlier this year to make sure we were ok. 

You Have Rats

"You have rats," The Perfects informed me, standing on my driveway as I fumbled with some grocery sacks from the back seat of my car.

The only one who was happy with this news was Duncan, who is brave only in the "hold me back" kind of way.

He turns into a vicious and rabid dog, while in the comfort of his own home, every time he sees a cat cross by the living room window. But when he saw one up close at Skylar's parents' house last Christmas, he quickly devolved into a nervous breakdown.

You wouldn't believe the therapy bills.

As soon as he discovered the rat or rats a day or two after The Perfects's's disclosure, he was in heaven, primarily because the rat had no interest in confrontation, so Duncan could look like a badass without ever having to fight the creature.

I knew that The Perfects didn't mean for the news to sound like an accusation, but I'm accustomed to translating everything that comes from their benevolent mouths into a certain tone and context.

Mr. Pham's Patio Project

I told you a little while ago about how I hired Mr. Pham to do whatever the hell he wants with my yard. I had given Mr. Pham a vision of what I was looking for, and he didn't seem to hate that vision, although he did yell "NO" at me a few times as I was explaining some details of the vision. Then he took money from me, marched to his truck, and drove away.

Over the next couple of weeks I would come home from work to find Mr. Pham ripping giant bushes out of my yard and hauling away concrete that I didn't even realize I had back there. On two separate occasions The Perfects yelled over to me to ask what Mr. Pham was doing back there. I told them the truth: "whatever the hell he wants."

I had my own problems dealing with the dying grass situation in my front yard, one which Skylar is convinced is evidence of a hate crime. When I asked him what someone might hate about me he just said "EXACTLY" so I'm probably offended.

Finally, I left town for the Half Ironman, wondering when Mr. Pham might be done.

Grass Seed and Drug Cartels

My street is on a hill, which is a problem for three reasons:

1. Sliding past my driveway on icy days and having to circle the block multiple times to give it another try;

2. Losing balls that Duncan suddenly decides to set down on the ground mid-walk for reasons he refuses to explain to me;

3. The thing that happened on Saturday.

About three years ago I decided to base 100% of my self-esteem on my yard maintenance. This was a dangerous decision because a weed can send me to therapy now.

On the plus side, I can accidentally steal someone's car and get chased down by multiple employees of a car dealership and still think I'm a perfect human as long as my lawn is looking healthy that day.

Many Hands Make Light Work

Last week I wrote a post complaining about how cooking blogs make you scroll through 5,000 words of nonsense just to get to the one thing you were looking for in the first place. Then Meg told me that I basically do the same thing with Strangerville because people who listen to the podcast but don't read the blog have to sift through Stranger word vomit to get to the episode. And I was only incredibly offended.

So that's why I put the episode at the top. I'm not losing my mind. You were worried. You shouldn't be worried. About that, I mean. You should be worried about a lot of other things. Like e. coli, and how to spell e. coli.

In other news, I was graceful in front of my neighbors on Friday.

It all happened because it finally started snowing in Salt Lake City.

Four-Layered Caramel Cream Orange Zest Chocolate Mirror Glaze Cake

The Great British Baking Show is on Netflix and months ago Meg was like "you HAVE to watch it because it will change your life" and I ignored her for a while but finally one day in December Skylar, Matt, and I were sitting in front of the TV making a lot of our lives when suddenly Skylar pulled up the show and hit play.

I have never been interested in any kind of cooking show. Usually when someone starts cooking something on TV I immediately change the channel because there is nothing less interesting to me than watching someone on television prepare food.

BUT, the one quality I possess that is even stronger than my dislike for television shows having to do with food is laziness. So I didn't get up and leave.

And that's when I found out that, in fact, there is an exception to my typical rule.

For those unfamiliar, The Great British Baking Show is a program wherein a dozen adorable British people spend their weekends baking in a large and beautiful tent. Their bakes are judged by two judges, who I swear to you are named Mary Berry

Scary Gandalf

It was Thursday morning and I was very late for work. Or as Brianne would call it, "having a typical morning."

Brianne decided some time ago that I never go to work. This is based on the two or three times in the last year that she has stopped by my office to see me and I wasn't there. Now occasionally when she sees me around 4:00 in the afternoon her usual greeting is "did you just get here?"

She also thinks that I don't dress appropriately for the office, a sentiment apparently shared by a colleague named Ryan who upon seeing this picture posted on Instagram recently

Laminate Flooring Comes Straight From Hell, Part II

Before you read about today's drama, let me remind you SINCE YOU ALREADY FORGOT HOW COULD YOU that Strangerville Live is somehow already next. freaking. week.

I don't know where the time goes. Probably the same place all of Duncan's toys are going. If I ever find that place I'm going to get a lot of my chewed up socks back. 

The point is, you should get your tickets for our September 8 show right now if you haven't done so already. It's going to be so much fun.

Voice: It IS a lot of fun! I've been there and I loved it! 

Eli: Thanks, whoever said that!

You guys: Um, Eli, that sounded like your voice.

Eli: No, that came from over there.

You guys: No. It came from your mouth. You didn't even try to make it look like you weren't talking. Your mouth was moving the whole time. You would make a terrible ventriloquist.

CSI Salt Lake City

I pulled up to my house on Thursday and there was a cop car and a CSI van out front.

I had the following instinctual reactions in the following order:

1. Keep driving; never look back.

2. Pull in, act surprised at whatever they accuse you of doing.

3. Not "act." Of course it would actually be a surprise. You're not a criminal, Eli.

4. Actually, can you go to jail for stealing Netflix from your friend Corey for nine years?

5. Oh, and Hulu Plus. And Amazon Prime. And some food from Lynn's house whenever she goes out of town.

6. No. They wouldn't call the CSI van to the scene of the crime for Netflix.

The Neighbor's Tree

One quick word on Strangerville Live: I did what the kids are calling "the social medias" and made an actual Facebook event page. Do us a solid and go join that page and invite all twelve trillion people you know to it.

Also, in case you need a reminder:

Then Meg Tweeted this:

America's Spirit Animal

So I just realized that last week I was supposed to announce the winner of the Strangerville Live raffle. But I didn't do it because lazy. And distracted. And also sometime around Wednesday I started thinking I had black lung. Then I thought it was just pneumonia. Then I thought maybe it was Plague. Then I binge-watched Bob Ross on Netflix and forgot I was sick until just right now.

So now I'm wondering if I have Swine Flu. And also I just realized that I've been wearing the same shirt for 48 straight hours. Like, legit, I've slept in this thing even. And I didn't notice until just right now. And this is especially sad because I've been to work in the last 48 hours. Twice. And also I can't totally promise that I'm going to change by tomorrow. I can promise that I plan to sleep in it tonight.

I got distracted again. See? It's very confusing to be me.

The point is, I finally drew names from the raffle. I actually wrote the names down on little pieces of paper, put them in a hat, and drew one. And I just realized right now that I covered my eyes when I did this, I guess so no one would think I was cheating. Which seems a little silly now considering that I'm home alone and nobody could see me anyway.

A Friendly Reminder to Make Some Spare Keys

We all get to agree that 2016 was a weird year. I say "was" even though it isn't actually over yet. I'm confident in the statement anyway. Nothing can happen in the next few days to make 2016 not a weird year.

So it shouldn't have been a surprise when this morning happened.

It started snowing on Christmas Eve in Salt Lake City. Apocalypse snowing. Snowing so much that there is currently an avalanche risk in Ecuador.

I know we're supposed to just be super happy about snow on Christmas because all of the songs have manipulated us into believing that it makes the season more magical. But I will not be duped.

Snow is a necessary evil in my neck of the woods. I appreciate it for hydrating the land and cleansing the air. But it is not magical.

It is cold, wet, and it always feels vindictive. Like, I don't know for sure if God is using it as a punishment, but every time I see the first snow flakes of the season start descending upon us I can't help but wonder if it's happening because of all the trashy television I watched throughout the year.

Popcorn Part II

AND THEN.

You guys didn't think there was going to be an "and then." You thought that dumpster fire of a life I told you about over the weekend was the finish line in my 32-year journey to become the trashiest person in all the land.

You probably thought, "Eli isn't going to post anymore after this. There's really nothing else for him to say. He has completed this blog and it will now become yet another abandoned page in the blogosphere."

Well, you guys were wrong. Because there's more. There is more crap to tell you about. On Monday I gave you the ice cream, but I withheld the cherry on top. Because I was worried I was already going to cause your type II diabetes and I wanted to give your poor pancreas a 48-hour break before shoving a nearly-illegal amount of proverbial powdered donuts down your proverbial gullets.

I think I got lost in analogies somewhere back there.

The point is this.

Repurposing a Cupboard Door

A couple of weeks ago I got home from the office after a particularly stressful day amid a particularly stressful week/month/year. The weather was nice so I decided I would winterize my home.

I say "winterize" because that's a word I've heard other grownups use. I have no idea what it actually means or what one is supposed to do to complete the task. All I know is that each fall I wander my yard pretending to do stuff while The Perfects are outside in hopes that they'll call some instructions over to me.

On this particular evening, I decided I would go ahead and turn off the water to my sprinklers and do some other sprinkler-related stuff my brother-in-law told me to do once. He didn't explain why any of these particular actions were important. I think this is so he can maintain all the power in the family. It's a job security issue.

Naturally turning off the sprinkler water led to cleaning my entire garage and replacing 12 light bulbs before determining that the light fixtures themselves were the problem.

Episode 9: The World of Fear

You guuuuu-uuuuuys. (I hope you read that the way I said it when I typed it. And yes, I do read everything I write out loud as I'm typing it. And I do a sassy head shake when I'm making a joke. I basically perform a one-man show for myself every time I write something on Stranger.)

We have our special Halloween Strangerville episode ready for you. We're calling Episode 9 "The World of Fear." A few notes about this episode:

1. Jolyn took her first crack at recording and editing a segment completely by herself (Segment 1). And it's amazing. And now I'm worried about my job security. So please go listen to that and tell her how pretty she is because she's a kindergarten teacher and if you don't do this it means you are against teachers and your political rivals will use this against you when you run for PTA president.

2. Segment 2, Trapped in Thailand, is one of the most stressful stories I have ever heard in my life and after spending a couple of weeks developing and editing this story, I literally woke up in the middle of the night having a panic attack because it started triggering memories of my own similar traumatic experience you recently heard about on Strangerville. I'll let you listen and see if you can guess what I'm talking about.

Hi. I'm Your New Neighbor.

I walked two houses down the hill to greet my neighbor, a blonde woman, age 50 or so, who rivals The Perfects in magazine-cover landscaping and lawn care. It was 9:30 PM, a time not usually reserved for greeting neighbors for the first time after living two-hundred feet from one another for 18 months.

I felt compelled to do it out of jealousy. Not jealousy for the neighbor. Jealousy for Matt's new life in his new neighborhood in which smiling pedestrians line the street and force-feed any passerby a history lesson on the area, the speaker's genealogy, and the schedule of mandatory events for neighborly bonding.

Somehow, without ever having lived there, I know more of Matt's neighbors than my own. I've also been to neighborhood parties there, I've stepped inside people's homes, and I've played with multiple dogs, all things I have never done on my own street.

And so I made a new promise to myself. I would transform my neighborhood, one neighbor at a time, and turn it into the social place I know it has the potential to be. And who better to get things rolling than me, the guy who lives smack dab in the center of the street.

Beware of Sisters

My sister Krishelle house-sat for me while I was in the Baltics. And by "house-sat" I mean "killed all of my flowers and broke my A/C."

Periodically throughout the trip, this text exchange would happen:

Eli: Hello.

Eli: Hi.

Eli: Hello???

Eli: Are you there?

Eli: HELP ME I'M DROWNING IN MY OWN TEARS!

Krishelle: What do you want?!

Eli: Oh, hi. Since you seem to be awake, how is everything going at the house?

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Yesterday I was standing in line for a full eternity to get a burrito because burritos. After about 28 minutes, I noticed that the person in line in front of me was none other than Mr. Perfect. I think. I don't usually see any of The Perfects that close and I have facial blindness (self-diagnosed but very real) so I didn't dare to say hi to him. Plus it had been like 28 minutes so it just felt weird to suddenly say hi anyway. Which brings me to my next point: I am 95% sure that I am calling The Perfects by their correct first names when I see them. Which means that there is a 5% chance I have been calling them by the wrong names to their faces for 18 straight months. And it is far too late at this point to verify. And if I find out I've been wrong this whole time, I'm going to have to move. To China.

I wonder if they have burritos there.

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

Jolyn and I have a very strict dress code in Strangerville. 

Time to Update my Resume

Are you guys sitting down? I need you to be sitting down for this. I have a really serious and shocking thing to say at you. I'm very worried Awesomesauciness is going to have a heart attack when she hears this news because she always says she's super old and apart from being incredibly sassy, that's all I really know about her. Maybe everyone can go and sit with her while you read this just to make sure she's ok.

I'll wait.

Ok. Now is everyone sitting down in Awesomesauciness's house? Is she as funny in person as she is here? Does she have cats? Did she ask about me OMG YOU HAVE TO TELL ME EVERYTHING SHE SAID LEAVENOTHINGOUT!

My big news is that I, Eli Whittleblister McCann, performed manual labor.

You guys. This is not a drill. I did actual physical work this weekend. BY MYSELF. WITH NO HELP FROM ANYONE. I actually, legitimately, hashtag did it myself. I didn't hashtag do it someone else's self.

I HASHTAG DID IT MYSELF.

Thank You For Being A Friend!

A quick note before we get into today's story: A huge thanks to the hundreds of you who have joined us over at Imzy so far. It has been incredibly fun to interact with you there and not do anything else like my job or responsibilities. If you haven't joined yet, please do so now at this link.

Since we are all hipsters now and because this is Imzy's beta testing, we have a uniquely loud voice right now when it comes to feedback. So if you have any feedback about how Imzy is working or what you would like to see there, let me know and I'll be happy to pass it on. So far they've been wonderfully quick at implementing suggestions.

Also, a couple hundred of you have won June Snapple shirts so far and if you don't email me pictures of you wearing them and/or canvassing your neighborhood for June's candidacy, THEN I GUESS THIS ISN'T EVEN AMERICA ANYMORE.

In other news, you may remember my naively optimistic plan to bury the dilapidated concrete pond in the my backyard, which The Perfects informed me last summer has been holding stagnant water for at least four decades now.