What Would Coco Do?

"How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone." Coco Chanel

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Location: Nashville, Tennessee, United States

I love the finer things in life, and I love writing. That's why I'm here. Want Coco to review your product? E-mail me at cococares@gmail.com!

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

We Entertain Robots

Okay so if you have been a long time reader of my blog, you know that my neighbors are referred to as the Southern Stepford Borg. I have reason to believe that the goings on at my house have been a source of entertainment for their somewhat dull robot days.

Dear Husband works out of the house. He has clients come over all the time. Most of these clients are pretty brides-to-be. The SSB likes to congregate on each others lawns and chit chat, whilst their children run from lawn to lawn and have a grand time. So, they see a stream of ladies enter my house, exit after an hour or two, and then I come home around 6:00, do the obligatory wave, and enter the house.

They must think that there are a-doings transpiring in my house. This makes me chuckle, as it does Dear Husband, and I think it would be grand if we upgraded the entertainment value. If the SSB collective is not stimulated from time to time, they will never learn and become more human-like. Dear Husband and I have talked about the following possibilities.

1. Have a friend come over with her hair up, and then upon leaving ask her to take her hair down and toss it around so that it looks a bit disheveled.

2. Any sort of clothing adjustment on the porch.

3. A squirt or two of binaca after ringing the doorbell.

If we are not going to join the collective, we might as well entertain them.


Blogger LaneHat said...


I'mve been reading your blog for a couple of months now and after lots of laughs have finally found a topic on which to de-lurk.

This reminds me a family story. When my parents were newlyweds in Chicago (early 1970's) my mother worked at a bank and my father, a salesman, worked out of their apartment. Their best friends were a group of flight attendants who lived upstairs; one of them often came downstairs in her robe to have morning coffee with my dad. When the building's version of the SSB would run into my pregnant mother on the elevator, they would ask how she was feeling in a tone that made it very clear they thought shenanigans were occuring behind her back.

My mom and that flight attendant (still a great friend) still laugh about it.

6:52 PM  
Blogger LaneHat said...

Wow, I should have should have checked for typos before posting that, huh?

This is why I usually lurk. :)

6:54 PM  
Blogger Coco said...

Thank you so much for sharing your story, and for de-lurking! It is always lovely to know that someone amongst the intertubes actually reads my stuff.

1:16 PM  

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