A house is for sale on our street, and it is very important to me that we find really great neighbors.

I thought about asking the realtor if I could do pre-screenings for anyone that is interested in seeing the house – you know – to make sure they’re the type of people we want living nearby.

But Even Steven said that would be inappropriate.

So instead I’ve been taking walks past the house during showings. If it looks like a family that I’d want as a neighbor, then I act really happy and smile and laugh a lot as we walk by.

If they look like not so great neighbors – then I pretend to be drinking vodka straight out of the bottle.

Last week, some people walked through the house that were clearly not the right neighbors for me (their perfect sweaters were tucked into their perfect pants), so I went ahead and took a giant dump in the front yard while they looked out the window. That seemed to do the trick.

Kidding. Totally kidding. I swear…

But I would love to have some great neighbors move in down the street. So I’m putting it out to you all, dear readers…

If you would like to be my neighbor, and you meet the criteria below, please leave me a comment – and I will consider your application…

My Perfect Neighbors

You must have a few kids – either young enough to play with my kids – or old enough to babysit my kids. If you don’t have kids, you must love kids so much that you think my kids are absolutely adorable, and you want to spend a lot of time with them.

You must have dandelions growing in your front yard. This will make Even Steven feel better about the dandelions growing in his yard.

And every time he complains about the dandelions growing in his yard (which is every single day), I can say, “Well – at least they aren’t as bad as the dandelions growing in their yard.”

Which would be better than my current response, which is, “Yup. It looks terrible. You’re really bad at this.”

You must keep a case of warm Natty Light near the door of your garage, so I can help myself whenever I am walking by. Thank you in advance.

On that same note, it’d be nice if you kept a can of Crisco and some plastic spoons next to the warm Natty Light. Thank you again.

You must keep my copy of Perfect Patty’s key in a safe place, where you can find it quickly.

You must have a hot tub. PLEASE have a hot tub.

And mega-huge bonus if you ever dated “Bill” – or someone just like him.

Okay – any takers? Won’t you be my (perfect) neighbor?

I have heard this story told so many times, that I feel as though I was there. It happened at least 10 years ago, but every time I’m reminded of it, I laugh and laugh and laugh.

A friend of the family (let’s call him Bill) was having dinner at his girlfriend’s house. Her parents were there, her little brother was there, her grandparents were there.

Her family lived in the country and loved to hunt. (That part is important.)

Dinner was going well, when this little conversation happened.

Girlfriend’s Dad: So – Bill – have you ever eaten beaver?

Let’s just stop right there.

Okay – back to the conversation.

Girlfriend’s Dad: So – Bill – have you ever eaten beaver?

Bill: What kind do you mean?

Yup. You read that correctly. He said WHAT KIND DO YOU MEAN as though there is more than one kind of beaver that her dad might be referring to.

Let me tell you something – when your girlfriend’s dad is talking about BEAVER – there is ONLY ONE KIND that he could possibly be referring to.

And it’s probably not the kind you’re thinking of.

Should you ever find yourself in a similar situation – trust me when I tell you that the answer to this question:

Have you ever eaten beaver?

Is ALWAYS no!

Mom – please don’t google beaver to try to figure out what I’m talking about here. Call me later, and I’ll explain over the phone.