A Home Owners Association for Sane People

A friend of mine recently commented on Facebook about the fact that his HOA had chastised his wife for putting a ribbon around their lamppost, or something innocuous like that.  I, too, have gotten yelled at by the HOA for what I found to be rather stupid complaints and that got me to thinking – if I ran a neighborhood, what would my rules be?  Hmmm…

1. No inflatable decorations.  I know I mention these.  A lot.  But I hate them.  I truly believe they will one day overtake the world by inflating to outrageous sizes and then deflating to suffocate us all while mummifying our bodies in the fake snow that’s supposed to blow around in the ones made to look like snow globes (hint:  They don’t look like snow globes.  They look like they’re in a “Don’t” yard in the Glamour Christmas issue.)  Also, let’s refrain from decorating your front door like a Christmas present.  Also, no inflatable pumpkins at Halloween, and please refrain from the trash bags that look like jack-o-lanterns.  You’re not fooling anyone. You’re simply decorating your trash.  And the JOA (Jamie’s Organization of Awesomeness) is sending you a cease and desist.  And a large fine.  I got a parking ticket this week and need to get that paid. 
2. Anyone coming by and leaving take-out menus on my door will be shot.  I don’t mind getting word of a new restaurant, especially if that restaurant delivers.  What I hate is the menus left on vacant houses flying around and landing in front of my house, usually in some very prickly bushes that are encased in bee nests.  I will never try your “awesome gyros” Awesome Gyro Company, because I’m nursing wounds I sustained trying to get your $4.99 menu out of my shrubberies so I don’t perpetuate the myth that I’m completely white-trash…a rumor already started by the fact that I keep hoarding glass bottles and other trash in the trunk of my car (I’m taking them to the recycling center.  At some point.  I promise.)   
3. Anyone who can’t seem to get their trash in the actual dumpster will be forced to  live in the dumpster for a week.  I apparently have completely idiotic neighbors.  These people can manage to get their trash TO the dumpster.  However, getting it IN the dumpster is a chore to them, as they routinely leave bags of trash beside the actual trash receptacle.  These people are obviously incapable of interaction with society, so I’m actually doing them a favor by forcing them to live in trash.  They’ll be there on their own soon enough anyway. 
4. Everyone will be forced to back into their parking spots.  I do this at home and at work (even under the constant chastisement of one Mrs. Dana Tucker.)  I have always done it because it makes getting out of a parking spot a lot easier, and given the fact that my depth perception would make a bat gasp incredulously, I can use all the help I can get.  But, this isn’t about me, this is about the community!  I am laying down this law so we all look totally badass when other people drive by.  They’ll think, “My, what a put-together community.  Ready to leave at a moment’s notice.  Wonder what they know that we don’t…”  Anyone failing to abide by this law will be the first to get eaten in the zombie apocalypse. 
5. I would like to put in a few rules for enjoying the pool:
1. If you are drunk and we have a guitar, please don’t ask to play the guitar while you drunkenly sing, “House of the Rising Sun.”  It’s weird.  And yes, this happened. 
2. Don’t glare at me when I open my cooler.  There isn’t any glass in there, so calm down.  All the glass is safely kept in the trunk of my car. 
3. It isn’t necessary to have a sign-in book at the pool.  Really.  All I’m going to do is write in names of serial killers and the unit numbers of the neighbors who leave their trash beside the dumpster. 

6.  The little stop signs that have mysteriously popped up in our parking lot?  Gone.  You know why?  It’s a parking lot.  I now blow through them with added joy because I know there’s someone, somewhere, who petitioned for these stupid things and that person obviously needs a hobby.  Like yelling at me because I failed to stop at your pitied attempt at control.  You can tell me all about it the next time you’re signing in people at the pool. 

And there you have it.  The glorious lay of the land enjoyed in the Jamie subdivision.  Bring us your cold, your weak, your huddled masses.  Just make sure they throw away their trash and back in their car.  The zombies really could pop up at any moment.