Double Wide: Tales of My Trailer Trash Neighbour

New Year's Kickin' Eve

2009-01-05T17:15:00.003-06:00

A bit late on this, but hopefully it's aged like fine wine, rather than moldy bread.

Around 12.30 am on New Year's Eve (or New Year's Day, if you want to get technical), I'm at the back of our house, and I can hear banging outside. So I go to the front window and see someone at the Doublewidistan embassy kicking the fuck out of the front door and yelling. I don't want it to go unnoticed that the sound carried the forty-some yards between the houses, through our windows, and another fifteen or so yards within our house, and loud enough that we both noticed and went to check it out.

Okay, so someone's kicking the front door. Not sure if it's a resident or a friend. I don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but I think there's only one set of keys for the Wheelless Trailer because, coming and going, the residents leave and grab keys from the mailbox. But the house was completely dark and no cars were around, so I would guess that they were out for the night. I deduced it pretty quickly. The Door Kicker, however, kicked and yelled for (no exaggeration) five minutes (I checked the clock) before giving up and going around to the back. No idea what happened after that—did he get in? did he go away? did he die in the snow?—because I went to bed.

Is An Error Ending?

2008-10-17T12:37:00.003-06:00

It's been a quiet summer here in Outer Doublewidistan. Lord Double Wide hasn't been seen much the last couple months. He shows up once a week for a short stretch then takes off again. Halfway house for the criminally stupid?

Little Dick vanished around early August and hasn't been seen at all. Until today. Pulling a long flat bed trailer, Little Dick showed up, and he and DW are currently loading furniture onto it. (Will they be smart enough to bungee it all on? Hmmm.) So it would seem that Little Dick will be woot-wooting elsewhere permanent-like. Does this mean DW is also moving on to a genuine trailer park, after experiencing the relative luxury of indoor plumbing and glass windows? Unknown.

I feel … not sad. Not regretful either. It's like having a hideous growth on your face—a massive mole with hair growing out of it that attracts gnats and beetles looking to lay eggs. You've always hated it because of the taunting from children, the elderly, and maliciously trained parrots, but it's a part of you. But then, when completing your gender reassignment surgery, you figure, what the hell, take off the big mole, too. And then you look into the mirror and it's no longer there. You're not unhappy, but it's unfamiliar, too. Yeah, I think that analogy works perfectly.

If Count Double Wide is going, I'll be sure to let everyone know. Make a final post and all, turn out the lights, and try to get my security deposit back. Excuse me, it's dusty in here …

The Couch Gag

2008-05-30T19:07:00.003-06:00

Never let it be said that I don't respond to my critics, even when they don't actually exist except in my own mind. One critic, who goes by the name Bucky Noonish, regularly says, "Look, Voltaire, you claim that these guys are white trash, but everyone knows that white trash have couches on the front lawn. Explain that away, you unenlightenment thinker." I've been putting off answering that criticism, partially because it might unleash other id monsters, but mainly because I've been waiting for the evidence to appear. As it must.

So, last Friday—better known as The Day Double Wide Got His Upper Body Shaved in the Weed Bed (or Bank Holiday in New Zealand)—it was a good old fashioned Mensa gathering with beer. But standing structures are so limiting. But the outdoors is so uncushioned. What would Niels Bohr do, they must have asked themselves. Why, drag a couch from the standing structure to the outdoors. Let the meeting begin!

More members showed up, which meant hauling out a love seat for these lovers of culture and knowledge.

So there you have it, Mr. Noonish (if you even exist). I don't expect to hear from my critics again until the natural gas pipe starts leaking.

Summer is the Time for Sequels

2008-05-23T17:45:00.002-06:00

Remember one of the first entries of this diary of the damned, where Double Wide shaved his head in the weed bed? No? Okay, go here and check it out then come back.

He's at it again, tho like all bad sequels, he's got some wacky sidekicks this time around.

So, what do we have here? Well, of course, our hero, getting his back (later arms and chest) shaved. There is a Double Widette performing the act (I'd like to think she murdered several competitors for the honour). There's Senor Wasting Disease, the Skinny Effeminate Roommate, looking on, possibly in awe. And Little Dick, catchin' some rays in the front yard and, in general, being the coolest fuck in his mind.

My reason for posting this isn't really about Double Wide shaving his upper body. Lots of guys do it (not me, but whatever). Its inclusion in this Encyclopedia Trailer Trashica is because it is, once again, a voluntary public activity. And, better yet, again in that poor weed bed under the window—what is its appeal as the site for depilatory activities? And it merits an audience from the Double Wide Action Team. Who does this? Really, who shaves their body hair on the front lawn? In front of audience?

Added curiosity: he's finished the shaving … and now he's disappeared into the house. You know, you can't head in until the shaving is completed, just like you wouldn't shave your back and chest and arms in the house. I'm at a loss trying to figure out this, the pinnacle of human evolution and cultural development.

Cornhole!

2008-05-22T17:06:00.003-06:00

I'm working in my office, which faces Doublewidinavia. Little Dick is home, the front door is (duh) wide open. Double Wide pulls up on his bike and yells out, "Cornhole!" I'm sure the real story behind what that means isn't as entertaining as what most people's imagination can conjure up. Nevertheless, conjure away, faithful reader.

An additional observation about Double Wide and his biking habits. When he goes for a ride, he hauls his bike out of the house and dumps it on the lawn. And there it stays for anywhere from fifteen minutes to a half hour or more. Instead, he's in the house, out of the house, in and out of the house before actually getting on the bike. The delay is, well, not intriguing but a minor curiosity. What explains the delay? Does he forget what he was going to do? Does he get distracted by floating spots in the corner of his eye? Does he have to psych himself up or engage in some other ritual? What explains such a delay between getting ready to ride a bike and actually riding the bike?

White Trash Homoeroticism in Contemporary Society

2008-05-11T19:13:00.008-06:00

I feel bad. Literally a half dozen of you rely on my news and analysis regarding the sovereign nation of Doublewidistan, yet I have provided no news or analysis. I could blame the Doublewidistani people themselves, but I don't blame monkeys for eating bugs out of each others fur or hurling their poo, so there is a principle to uphold. So, to repeat, I feel bad.

To add some meat to these bones, I'll crib from my partial update in the comments of the previous post.

(1) DW regularly leaves the lights on on his car, leading to calls for boosts or cab rides. An additional observation from the past couple weeks: the driver's side inside door handle doesn't work. I assume this given that he always rolls down the window and opens the door using the outside handle.

(2) In sub-freezing weather this winter, the household pushed a friend's vehicle that was slipping on the ice and couldn't make it up the hill. This is only noteworthy because Little Dick emerged from the house without a shirt to do the job. No time to put on a shirt—there's pushings needing doings! Not only that, it's January and he's hanging around the house without a shirt.

This actually raises a topic that I find curious. Aside from the Skinny Effeminate Roommate, who looks like he's suffering from wasting disease, the guys in that house seem to revel in each other's near-nakedness. Now, I'm not homophobic in the least, but it strikes me as more than a little homoerotic for guys to hang out wearing as little as possible. And, given that this goes on even in the winter, they can't blame the temperature. What do they think about as they stand around, just in their underwear? Are they trying to impress each other? Is this some kind of primate dominance ritual? Seriously, why do a bunch of young guys living together strip down in each other's company? I really want to know this.

Two guys. One front yard. Clothing very optional. Admiration of participants mutual. (Note: the temperature that day was under 10 degrees Celsius.)

(3) DWD is no longer a resident. After a visit from Animal Control, DWD disappeared. AC called me maybe two months later to inquire how things were, and I said it was quiet since they took the dog. They said that they didn't. When I told them DWD was gone, they were bothered because he can't move the dog without court approval. So he was supposed to get yet another visit. No idea what happened re. all that. However, DW has adopted a second cat. Or it's taken the constant open door as an invitation to move in. The smelly old pillow has survived the winter, yet again. Winter after winter, rain storm after rain storm, it stays on the front step, ready for Doublewide to plop his exposed ass crack on it, maybe consume a meal, maybe just sit and stare into the void.

(4) The unanswered question remains whether DW has finally graduated from university. I think this was either year five or six, so it stands to reason that he's got to be getting close (stopped clocks and all). I don't imagine we'll know until late August rolls around and whether he starts heading out with a book bag over his shoulder.

Doublewide and Little Dick, who is amping up the cool factor by wearing a green faux straw hat. He might also be ready to start going, "woot woot."

The End of An Error

2007-08-28T10:06:00.000-06:00

Friends, I regret to tell you that the Double Wide Chicken Coop and Dog Enclosure 9000™ is gone. Like Hitler's claim of a thousand-year reich, its longevity was overstated. In the last couple days, an older guy (were I to guess, the landlord) and a few younger ones have been cleaning up the front yard and doing some repairs—and took down the Coop. Likewise, Double Wide and his Hoochie Mama haven't been around for the last four (nor has Little Dick and his Shiny Scratchfree Truck). Does this mean that DW is on his way out, or is already out? We didn't see any stuff being hauled out, so that would suggest no. But given the timing of everything—end of the month, just before classes start—it's suggestive. I hope DW comes back for Kitty!, tho, who's just been hanging around these past few days. Similarly, the DW/DWD pillow is just lying on the front steps, waiting for someone to tan on …

And the Batter Has Two Strikes and No Balls On Him

2007-07-25T13:38:00.000-06:00

Bit of an update from the previous couple posts, made possible, mostly, by a phone call that I received this morning from the city solictor. My supposedly humourous observation that DW was wearing a shirt, which must have meant something official was going on, turned out to be dead on: court date. DW pled guilty to owning a dangerous dog and accepted all the prosecution's demands in exchange for the dog being returned to him. (Had he pled not guilty and still been found guilty, he might not have gotten DWD back. So, in a way, good for the schmuck taking the course that would ensure that DWD wouldn't be put down. However, it means he can never appeal the decision.) And what are these conditions?

• Construction of an enclosure in the back yard. Sorry, DW, city bylaws won't allow the chicken coop you've erected in the front yard. Animal Control is expected to swing by to inform him of the bad news and review the conditions.
• DWD must be muzzled and leashed whenever it is outside and not in the enclosure. Well, DW's already blown this one as he's been outside several times with DWD sans muzzle or leash, including going to and from the Double Widemobile. Actually, it's standard procedure.
• DWD cannot be allowed to leave the house on its own. Our ever wily hero erected a suitcase barricade in the open door on Saturday, which DWD easily jumped within an hour. Thus far, no improvements to the original idea have been forthcoming. Animal Control is expected to veto this as well.

Now, I'm not a vindictive person—well, okay, a little; that DW has had possibly a dozen warnings and we've been forced to this point makes me want the dumb fuck to suffer a bit for being too cool and/or a turd by consistently ignoring them—so I'll offer a couple suggestions, which might solve the third problem. I imagine that the door is kept open because Maison Double Wide traps heat like flypaper traps … some kind of bug. So, two ideas:

(1) Buy a screen door. Simple and more or less does what DW and the Double Wide Action Team have been pursuing already with the open door—improve air flow.
(2) Buy an air conditioner, either the window unit kind or the portable ones. Keep your doors closed and cool off the modern way. Both options cost money, but then he's paid several hundred dollars in fines already.

I can't believe for a second that neither suggestion has been offered up after all these years, so I can only assume that there are religious or political implications for why he's rejected both.

What does this mean going forward? Well, the city solicitor told me that if DW fails to comply, he'll be in violation of a court order, which probably carries stiffer punishment, including fines, jail time, and/or losing DWD. Surely he'll be smart enough not to fuck up yet again, won't he?

Alright, settle down with your laughter and hooting. Another possibility is intriguing. Castle Double Wide has a basement suite, and I assume only it has access to the backyard (hence DW spending his life on parade in the front). So, if DW's lease doesn't include the backyard, he might well be fucked (sorry to go all legalese on you). His options would be to (1) ignore the lease and build the enclosure in the backyard anyway; (2) get permission from the landlord/basement tenant to build the enclosure in the backyard; (3) give the dog up; or (4) move away. I'll let you in on a dirty little secret: I'd prefer #4, even tho it would mean the end of this blog. A small price to pay for potentially improving the neighbourhood. But that's all hypotheticals and suchlike. We only deal with reality here—with purple dragons swooping down on busses driven by angry talking penguins.

Build It and The Dog Might Come Back

2007-07-20T10:07:00.000-06:00

Yesterday had a little bit of everything that makes the Double Wide experience so worthwhile. There's something to be appalled by, something to be amused by, something that makes you question whether some members of the human race are actually devolving.

Let's backtrack a bit to Monday morning. I returned a call to my city's solicitor, who had left a message for me on Friday to talk about our hero. She had my number because of my involvement in the previous case in which DW was found guilty of violating leash laws, including his dog going after a delivery boy. She asked how he'd been since that case, and I said that nothing had changed but that I'd given up calling Animal Control because it had no effect. She then asked about the incident from a few weeks back, in which DW's dog (DWD) attacked another dog. I said that I wasn't a witness to the attack, but that I could say that DWD hadn't been tied up that evening prior to the attack. She then asked how DW had been since being visited by Animal Control. I said that it was like any other visit—he dutifully leashes DWD for a week or two then either figures the heat's off or gets lazy or forgetful, and we're back to where we were. She was more than a little annoyed to hear this—my guess is that DW was strongly warned by the Animal Control officer the last time that there were significant repercussions for not complying—and said that she'd be sending Animal Control back to reinforce the message.

She did one better. Yesterday at noon, two Animal Control officers and a cop showed up at Chateau Double Wide. DW wasn't there, but it looks like Little Dick was, and he surrendered the poor dog. So, what might the reaction be? A friend thought that I wouldn't see anything because he wasn't likely to pitch a fit in the front yard. I said that his entire life is on display in the front yard, so why wouldn't this? Point goes to me.

Alas, my friend was right. When DW came home around five-ish, there was no great display of rage, confusion, frustration, or bewilderment. However, an hour or so later, the cop came back and briefly spoke with DW. A little bit of gesturing from DW, but my guess is that he was being more deferential to a big cop (as opposed to female Animal Control officers).

And then the story took a turn for the Double Wide Classique.

Around eight in the evening, a half ton shows up and backs into the front yard. From within emerged the Double Wide Action Team (DWAT). (I wanted to use Superfriends but DC Comics' lawyers are quick and merciless. I'm pessimistic about action figures for the same reason.) Hmmmmm, this seems promising. Indeed. A bunch of posts connected with mesh are thrown out. Are they erecting a fence for the yard? No, that's too ambitious. Nope, it's a simple enclosure. Ah, but what an enclosure? It's hard to describe what I witnessed without collapsing into paroxysms of laughter. It was the construction technique of brain-damaged orangutans (with all due apologies to any orangutans who might be reading).

• Digging holes for the poles? Nope.
• Measurement of any kind? Nope.
• Use of a level? Nope.
• Use of rocks or, better, cement to stabilize the posts? Nope.

The "technique" was, basically, to pick a spot for the post, take a sledgehammer and whack that muthah into the ground. I will grant one thing, tho: the DWAT did stretch the fencing so that it would reach the existing fence, so kudos, DWAT, kudos.

Centuries of Engineering Knowledge Employed … By Someone Else Far Away

Now, apart from the obvious instability of the entire fence given that there are no holes—just posts hammered into the ground without any kind of supports—there doesn't appear to be any kind of gate. It would appear that they left an opening near the front steps, but unless they grab a piece of plywood to serve as the gate (pleasepleaseplease), they've constructed a jail with an open door. (Based on this morning's evaluation, there might be mesh in the hole, but I can't be sure.) Or maybe DWD is expected to jump in an out of the front window. You'll excuse me if I don't attempt to dwell too long in the DWAT's collective imagination. Still, it's worth emphasizing that the thing was constructed with basically one tool—a sledgehammer. Just think about that for a minute or two.

I would hope (I won't go so far as to say assume) that Animal Control won't just turn over DWD on DW's word that he's built an enclosure, that they'll actually come out to inspect it first. And that they'll point the flaws in its construction (i.e., stability, opening) before releasing DWD. This is all prior to a hearing, keep in mind, so this might well be a moot point.

One additional moment of amusement from last night, the lone female DWAT (also known as a Double Widette) made her contribution to the process by ascertaining that the fence was dirty, and so hosed down a few sections. Ah, much better. Make-up on a pig …

The Final Touch: Hose Off That Bit of Dirt

So, what does all this mean? Well, it might be enough for DW to get DWD back, however temporarily. But as for him properly controlling DWD, colour me skeptical. Simply leashing DWD would have done that but that act was too onerous for DW. What is there to compel DW to put DWD in the enclosure? Having undergone risky surgery to give me abilities to divine the future, I see DWD in the enclosure for ten to fourteen days—until the heat is off or DW gets lazy—and then it will be back to the old ways—open door, DWD coming and going as it pleases, people being chased. Like a bad sitcom, sticking with what works.

The Final Product: Awkward Angles Intentional

P.S. As we "went to press," DW and a DW-ette headed out. He was wearing a shirt so it might be official-like.

Update from the same day! DW arrived home not too long ago (four-ish) and has DWD in tow. Well, not really in tow because that would imply some level of control. But you know what I mean. No inspection of the pen from anyone in authority, thus validating—no, what's the the complete opposite of validating? Let's go with invalidating—my faith in those whose job it is to enforce the bylaws. Way to let him think he can continue to get away with shit. Countdown for the dog to run loose begins … now!

Update the Second. Those who had roughly twenty-two hours before DW gets lazy, claim the pot in your pool. Yep, DWD is sitting on the lawn beside the enclosure.

Inevitability Pays a Visit

2007-06-25T21:36:00.001-06:00

No humour, or what is intended to be humour, this time around.

This past Friday night, around ten or ten-thirty, we heard this screaming/yelping sound from across the street. We looked out the front window and saw three people holding a small dog, while Double Wide brought his own dog back in the house. Knowing that Double Wide's dog (DWD) wasn't on a leash, it was pretty obvious that it had attacked the smaller dog. There was some jawing back and forth, and then the group of three, a guy and two women, walked about halfway up our block. I thought about it for a few minutes and decided to go out and doublecheck with them as to what had happened. Indeed, they were walking their dog (on a leash) on the sidewalk and DWD came off the steps and attacked it. And drew blood. Not a lot, but their dog, a small poodle-cross, had blood on it's side.

I told the group about past experiences with DW and DWD, particularly that he'd been convicted when his dog went after a delivery kid. The guy told me he asked DW why DWD wasn't chained up. DW told him, "Doesn't need to be." Classic. So, the guy phoned the police (tho I told him they won't respond to that kind of complaint; they didn't) and then animal control. Nothing happened until this evening (Monday), when an animal control officer showed up. Of course, DWD was neither leashed nor wearing a collar. The front door, equally of course, was wide open, the officer had to yell to get his attention. And thus began the show.

Lots of gesticulating from both parties. I'd love to know what DW's defence was. His dog was unleashed. His dog attacked another dog that was leashed. It drew blood. There's likely a vet report and/or photos of the poodle. DW already has over a half dozen citations from various people on the block. He's been convicted on at least two of them. But, no, for well over fifteen minutes he and the officer back-and-forthed, with DW pointing at the ground, at the sky, all around. He was given a citation of some sort.

What does this mean, tho? Well, I don't know. At the very least, it'll be a $250 fine. However, given that this is the second time and it's evident that DW doesn't give a fuck about leash laws, the dog could be taken away (i.e., destroyed) or DW could be given strict conditions for keeping the dog, including leashing, muzzling, warning signs, and liability insurance. Who knows. Well, I know one thing—if the punishment is only a fine, it'll happen again.

Like Opening Day, 'cept with knives and retards

2007-05-06T20:00:00.000-06:00

Patience, the wise elders preach. Good things come to those who wait. Well, I wouldn’t say this is a good thing, but I’ve been waiting awhile for a good old fashioned Double Wide foray into the inane. The moon must circle the earth, which must circle the sun, and so Double Wide must engage in the bizarre.

So, it’s a fairly nice day today—sunny, warm, a bit windy. Double Wide has a bunch of his regular gang over to sit on the stoop to debate string theory, the precarious state of Russian democracy, and what would have happened if Napoleon had atomic weapons—the usual deep thinking that goes on at the Double Wide Institute for Advanced Weak Link Behaviour. Walking past my front door, my eye caught some unusual activity. Well, unusual for most neighbourhoods …

The Skinny Effeminate Roommate (SER; see earlier posts) and Double Wide, armed with what appears to be a cleaver and a bread knife respectively, are hacking at the ground in the weedbed. Hmm, I thought, this bears further observation. There were a number of possibilities at what they were up to. Killing a snake that was threatening the neighbourhood? Perhaps, but not likely. Killing the mutated hair clippings from Double Wide’s shaving session from last year before they rip a whole in the fabric of space? Even less likely.

“You feeling like a pioneer yet?”

Then the answer emerged from the open door. One of this season’s Double Widettes™ was holding some bedding plants. Ah, they’re breaking up the soil for planting … sort of. If you’re determined to use a kitchen utensil, a spoon, which best approximates the shape of a spade, would seem the best choice. Or a ladle. Or even more sensibly, use your damn hands, retard. Oh well, a few points for—I don’t want to say ingenuity—let’s call it effort. The rapt attention of the audience in the photo below suggests bemusement or stupefaction.

“Should the growing season take this long?”

Speaking of retards, let’s reacquaint ourselves with a recruit to Team Double Wide from last fall, one of the infamous Backwards White Hat gang, last described attempting to assemble a satellite dish on the sidewalk. This guy is part of an additional group of Double Wide pals known as The Little Dick Gang, so named because they all drive big trucks to compensate for their small apparatus (hey, if you don’t use your big truck for, oh, hauling things, the default assumption is that you’re suffering horribly in the third leg department). Anyway, Little Dick has been further compensating by regularly letting out a whoop—think drunk fratboy celebrating a negative STD test or access to free beer—when he gets home or is about to leave. Occasionally, if another Little Dick Gang member is present, he’ll thrust out his hips a few times at nobody in particular. And whoop. Of course. Oh, and apparently he’s ready to be a hit as a troubadour at the next beach blanket party.

SER (left), Double Wide, Little Dick Gang charter member (with six-string).

It’s only May and things are already shaping up well for regular Double Wide entries this summer. I feel like Jed Clampett, taking a shot at a critter and hitting an oil deposit.

Y’all come back now, hear?

Spring Has Sprung (aka Double Wide Returns!)

2007-04-06T12:12:00.000-06:00

To hell with Groundhog's Day or the equinox as a a gauge for determining when spring starts. I can tell you with absolute certainty that it's not springtime till Double Wide emerges from his trailer with a basement to skip rope on the front lawn in his underwear (maybe he was wearing shorts, but, man, if so, very tight shorts). There'd been hints in the past weeks as he stood in his doorway in his underwear, but it's not truly spring till the skipping rope accompanies him. Rejoice! It means another seven months of Double Widery!

Not a whole lot to update in terms of Double Wide buffoonery over the winter. Plenty of "Kitty!" calls—including the past couple days; has Kitty finally had enough and decided to search for a responsible owner?—but the biggest news was the retirement of the Double Widemobile. There were a few too many incidences, I suppose, of the DWM not making it up the hill in winter, so he's got himself a new $200 special (perhaps photos in a later post). It doesn't have the same character as the original, but I'm guessing he hasn't had enough time to drive the shit out of it for it to become a true heir.

Questions for the upcoming Double Wide season: Will DW graduate this year, or is he working on the six year plan? If he graduates, will he stay in Maison Double Wide? Will he challenge for the title in the White Trash Boxing Association? Will he continue to shave his head on the front lawn, and will the folks at Miracle Gro hire him as a consultant?

Stay tuned, Double Widiacs …

Late breaking edit! For you ladies who like your men on the white trashy side, here's one to print out and put in a frame. Yowza yowza yowza!

Double Wide? Double Fun!

2006-10-16T11:58:00.000-06:00

Apologies are offered to those who (a) actually read this and (b) feel a sense of injustice that updates have been infrequent. I offer as compensation two Double Wide Tales for the price of one (or none or thirty-five; whatever).

Starting the Double Widemobile is exhausting …
Another constant of DW’s tenure at his own personal trailer court is his car. A beat up compact with rust holes, smashed up corners, and peculiar inner workings. By the last point I mean his battery. And by that I mean come cooler temperatures he removes it each day and hooks it up when he’s ready to go somewhere. No, really. When he’s ready to drive off for new adventures, he emerges with battery in hand, pops it in under the hood, turns the key, and hopes for the best. The obvious question is why. A couple possibilities leap out. One is that he’s got no alternator and is draining the battery with every drive, so he recharges it in the house. A second scenario is that he’s running something inside off the power of that battery. Either way, he’s marching to the beat of his own skinless drum.

Occasionally, despite popping in that battery, the car won’t start. More often than you’d think (or maybe not given the condition of that shitbox). When that happens—and I’ve seen this many many times—he pops the trunk and pulls out one, sometimes two jerry cans, hoping that there’s gas in there. Usually not, based on his hardy efforts to shake and tip whatever liquids within into the tank. From there, it’s a phonecall to a friend with a vehicle that has both its own battery plus gasoline.

It turned a bit for the cool last week, revealing a new feature of the DWM: a large cloud of exhaust from the tailpipe of El Rumblo. I’ll let the photos tell the tale, but I will add that it’s like Casa Double Wide exists by the moors.

Satlight teleovishun
This one’s from the past weekend. Late in the afternoon, I noticed that DW and his buddies/roommates(?) were outside with a mini-dish on the lawn, with a coaxial cable running thru to the front window. “Ho ho,” I thought, “it’s been awhile, but I think this is going to be a good one.” Indeed. One amateur technician would stay outside, either holding the dish up in the air or flat on the sidewalk, various altering angles and directions. Alas, it appears that no signal was received (a huge shock, I imagine, to those inside). By the evening, it appears that the Great Experiment had concluded in failure. Until the next afternoon. Maybe height is required! Sure, all those other dishes in the neighbourhood are elevated—that must have been the problem. So, they get a ladder and place it up against the house. It should be noted that they placed the ladder up against the house where there are a number of trees. Again, great surprise, it must not have found a signal. Maybe the tree in the front yard! Yeah, let’s try that! Nope, not there either. Sadly, Round Two of the Great Experiment had ended without extra channels.

What to make of this, apart from a profound ignorance of setting up satellite dishes and the importance of an unobstructed path to the sky? Here are a couple theories that a friend and I came up with. (1) They found (or stole) a dish and don’t know that you also need the decoder box to make it work. Sure that sounds bizarre, but past entries to this blog suggest that the Nobel Committee isn’t making an oversight in not considering these guys for award. (2) They do have a decoder box, but it has an illegal card in it. That has a certain logic to it because it explains why they don’t just get a proper installation done by the satellite signal provider. (3) There might be a third possibility that is even more absurd and unworkable that I haven’t been able to figure it out yet.

A bit of a sidenote. Since he’s taken on some roommates, there now appears to be an official Double Wide uniform for residents. When the residents wear their white caps—and that’s frequent from what I’ve noticed—it’s always got to be backwards. The three of them will head out, all wearing the same white ball cap backwards, ready to impress the world. It’s all the more noticeable because Double Wide himself will occasionally wear a blue ball cap—but that’s worn forwards. Always forwards. White=backwards, blue=forwards. Fashionability!

(Photo credit: Tipsy McStagger)

Foxy Boxing!

2006-09-15T11:46:00.000-06:00

In retrospect, I started chronicling the events at Maison Double Wide too late. He's lost much of the whacky white trash character that used to dominate his oh-so public behaviour (we were, however, treated to an extended "Kitty! Kitt-ay! Mega Mix" this morning). Part of this, I think, is his acquisition of at least one roommate over the summer, known in our household as Skinny Effeminate Roommate (SER). There's less of the hanging on the front step, leaving the front door open all day and evening. In a way, I'm almost nostalgic …

Then again, just when I think the days of cheap-ass wine and roses from a dumpster are over, my refugee from the trailer park comes back to prove that he still hasn't lost it. To wit, his apparent training for The Big Fight. A month or so ago, we noticed that he was skipping rope in front of his house periodically. Odd, but it's in front of the house so I suppose it was in character. Then one evening, Double Wide had a bunch of friends over, just standing about on the lawn. Next thing I know, he's got on a pair of boxing gloves and showing the gang his moves—whap whap whap! Take that imaginary opponent! My wife said to me: "That's what the rope skipping is—he thinks he's a boxer."

And, indeed, since then, he comes outside at any given time, day or evening, to skip rope for a bit. Occasionally, SER takes a turn while Double Wide rests (I guess they only have one skip rope). There's also the occasional shadow boxing (or is it just straight air boxing as he does it in the middle of the front yard or the sidewalk?).

Where's Burgess Meredith with a live chicken when you need him?

The Great White Trash Hope, in repose, on a tv stand

It seemed, for some time, that that was it. Skip rope, air box. But then, Double Wide brought out a heavy bag and attached it to a tree in the front yard. Whoa-ho, thought I, am I witnessing greatness? Then again, thought I, probably not.

Just two more years till the Oympics, just two more years till the Olympics …

All this does beg several question: does he actually box? if so, why doesn't he train at a gym? does he do this to impress or intimidate the neighbourhood? does he hear the stifled laughs? why doesn't he play the theme song from "Rocky" when he's skipping rope? And, once again, what kind of person conducts his life almost exclusively in his front yard?!?

A few recent doin's a-transpirin'

2006-08-24T10:11:00.000-06:00

In the last couple days, a few things of potential curiosity have occured across the street.

• a couple days ago, a woman wearing what appeared to be a mumu came up Double Wide's walk, waving a piece of paper, and yelling at him to come to the (open) door. The Lab was barking and jumping around her. She didn't seem pleased.
• some new decorations for the front lawn! Joining the big ugly brown pillow mat on the front step shared by Double Wide and the Lab, there is now what appears to be a stereo ot tv stand, which is being used as a chair. A couple nights ago, there was also a lamp on the front step. Plugged in. Turned on. Outside. And there's a director's chair covered in the Canadian flag sitting in the weed bed. I'm telling ya, we're reaching a critical mass where the only result is an old couch on the lawn and beer cans lined up in the window.
• yesterday, Double Wide walked across the street to speak to someone—possibly the new owner of a house on the corner—and returned with a plastic bag. He also proceeded to tie up the Lab at that point. My guess: the Lab went across the street and took a dump on someone's lawn, and Double Wide was called on it. Ah, poor deluded new neighbour, thinking that this will result in Double Wide becoming more responsible.
• a cop car slowly went by Maison de Double Wide yesterday, checking things out. A couple summers ago, this used to be a regular occurence. A return engagement?

Kitty!, the Dirty Girl, and the Dogs With No Names

2006-08-19T10:32:00.000-06:00

Let's talk about the other four-legged residents of Chez Double Wide …

Apart from the black lab, for the past couple years, there has been a black cat named … prepare yourself for a dose of insight and wit … Kitty! And I believe it is spelled with an exclamation mark. I say this because pretty much every morning, Double Wide will open his door and yell out in that hoarse, tobacco-coated duck call that is his voice, "Kitty! Kitt-ay!" Now, let's pause for a second and think about that name. Kitty. Kitty the cat. That's the kind of name that a five-year-old gives to a cat because five-year-olds generally lack the vocabulary to come up with something less obvious and perhaps more reflective of the cat's qualities. Birdie the bird. Doggy the dog. Piggy the pig. Kitty the cat. But this isn't a five-year-old. This is a grown adult who is going to a post-secondary institution and when it came time to naming his cat, the best his brain could muster was … Kitty. Sorry, Kitty! Well done. Well done, indeed. "Kitty!"

So, earlier this summer, we had a problem with a cat coming into our yard to hunt birds (we've got a lot of trees and, hence, a lot of birds). Actually we have a lot of cats in our neighbourhood who come to hang out (and occasionally tease our own indoor cats), but this one was rather persistent and fairly resistant to being shooed away. So eventually we called Animal Control because it had elevated itself, in our eyes, to nuisance. They came and caged it up.

Now, at the time, I really didn't know that this cat was, you guessed it, Kitty! From across the street, Kitty! looked rather small, whereas this one was quite a bit bigger. However, for the next several days, Double Wide would open the door every hour or so and yell, "Kitty! Kitt-ay!" a couple times, then wander back inside. My wife and I quickly figured that, in fact, our nuisance cat was his Kitty! What I found interesting is that, for a guy well acquainted with the good folks at Animal Control, it didn't dawn on him to contact them to see if a cat matching his own had been picked up. Nope. Just keep yelling, "Kitty!" and maybe Jesus will return the cat. However, a neighbour went over there, I believe, and told him to call Animal Control (I say this because after talking with her, he drove off and returned with his cat).

Like with the various times he was cited for letting his dog run loose, he made a few half-assed efforts to tie up the cat. However, as with the dog, he returned to his stupid and lazy ways and Kitty! runs loose. Tho it does avoid our yard now. Fair enough.

………

There have also been three guest dogs over the years. One was a rottweiler owned by some friend who stayed for a month or two a few summers ago. What's better than one dog allowed to run loose? Two dogs allowed to run loose! And, to no one's surprise, the dogs went after people who came to close to the yard. One incident occurred when the friend of one of my neighbour's boys was charged. Double Wide assured them not to worry about the rottweiler but added—so comfortingly—"She's not the dog you have to worry about." Yeah! Thanks for contributing to the neighbourhood.

Last summer, Double Wide got another temporary roommate, a rather dirty looking girl with a Jack Russell and a hound. I don't say dirty in a sexy and seductive sense. I mean needing a bath. Her clothes often looked like they'd never been washed. She looked like she had stink lines around her. Anyway, these dogs were leashed when she could round them up. However, whenever the door was opened—which, given the Open Door Policy, was whenever "humans" were home—they'd take off down the street, charging thru people's yards. What is of note here is that experience, one would think, would teach that if you open the door, the dogs take off. And yet this happened every time. Neither Dirty Girl nor Double Wide learned to gradually open the door and slide in to keep the dogs inside. Nor did they immediately go after the dogs or call for them to return. They'd just watch for thirty seconds or so, perhaps to let the dogs get a good lead in the eventual chase. Then they'd saunter down the block to relocate the dogs. Not that calling for them would do any good. Another neighbour said that he spoke to DG and DW about her two dogs, asking what their (the dogs) names were, so that he could call for them when they get loose. She replied that they don't have names because they're too stupid to learn. Yes. It's the dogs that are too stupid in this case. And further insight as to why the dogs are seemingly uncontrollable.

Classic Black Lab: Taking a Dump On a Neighbour's Lawn

The Dirty Girl becomes curious as to where the lab has gone

By the end of the summer, Dirty Girl and the Dirty Dogs moved into the house's basement suite. They broke free several more times and eventually Animal Control came around to corral them. After which they were never seen again. I'm guessing that Dirty Girl moved as I haven't seen her or her stink lines since either.

Let loose the hound …

Um … keeping letting loose the hound.

What other zoological adventures will Casa de Double Wide unleash? Maybe he'll get himself a falcon to patrol the neighbourhood. How about a cow to munch on the block's lawns? Whatever he does, we all know that he'll make a minimal effort to be responsible for its behaviour.

Kitty! Kitt-ay!

Double Wide Fought the Law and Double Wide Probably Won

2006-08-12T10:54:00.000-06:00

Greetings Double Wide fans!

Sorry for the lack of updates but, hard to believe, Double Wide hasn’t engaged in any of his usual white trashy entertainment. Of note, however, he appears to have gained another housemate—and one with, oh boy oh boy, big stereo speakers! Double Wide also seems to have gone out and gotten himself one of those wraparound bicep tattoos. I don’t really follow tattoo trends, but I think that’s several years past. But not in the Double Wide universe!

Given the skimpy new adventures to relate, I think I’ll take you back in time to my initial encounter with Double Wide. My wife and I have been in our house for a little over six years now, and in the first two Double Wide’s current house was occupied by around fifteen dozen students. No, really. In the morning, we would see a steady stream of people emerging with backpacks, presumably on their way to class. It was like clowns getting out of a car at the circus. Accordingly, it became known as the Clown House.

However, after two years and at least one citation from the city for the garbage on the lawn and pigeons living in the exposed vents, the circus left town and a new group of future welfare state beneficiaries moved in. My memory is that it was Double Wide and a couple girls. And a puppy. A nice looking black lab cross that was given free run of the neighbourhood. Which meant it regarded all the yards on the block as it’s urine and feces dumping ground. I had my own dog at the time and didn’t need to clean up after two, so I went over there to inform them that they had to tie up their dog for several reasons: (1) it’s disrespectful to their neighbours; (2) it’s the law; (3) it would be a matter of time before the puppy ran away and/or got hit by a car. The girl who answered the door looked like I had caught her between puffs on the crack pipe, and seemed completely oblivious to what I was saying. No, really. No exaggeration here. Rather than continue talking to myself, I went home.

Not long after that, the dog was once again running loose, in and out of our yard. So I went over again, this time encountering our hero, Double Wide! I went through the same routine and claimed to agree, but said it wasn’t his dog so there was nothing he could do. I said that regardless of whose dog it is, I’d be calling Animal Control after that. He shrugged and closed the door. End Phase One.

Begin Phase Two. After that first year, the two girls moved out but the dog stayed. Which would make the dog the responsibility of Double Wide’s, no? You would think. It was spring and the dog once again took to roaming the neighbourhood, aided by both a lack of chain and a literal open door policy (i.e. when Double Wide was home, the front door was left wide open, letting the dog come and go as it pleased). But lest you think that Double Wide was not an attentive owner, whenever he wanted the dog to come home, he’d wander out on his steps, often just in his underwear, and yell in a hoarse tobacco/gin voice, “Cheeeeeeeee!” Or “Goddammit Cheeeeeee!” (Note: I don’t know if the dog’s name is Chee or Chi or Chief. Or maybe even Gee.) Over the course of the summer, both myself and my neighbours complained to Animal Control about the dog, and a representative came out … and nothing happened. The status quo ruled. Regardless of the numerous complaints, the dog ran free. A lesson to be learned regarding the city’s by-laws, to be sure (in case you’re wonder, the by-law states that a first offence carries a $50 fine, second $100, and subsequent $250; I naively assumed that because we had made complaints, he had been issued those fines. But, as I explain below, that wasn’t the case.)

No we’re up to year three and the dog is fully grown. And more aware of its territory. And going after people who come near the house. As in walk on the sidewalk or bike by on the street. Keep in mind the open door policy, allowing the dog to be in the house and still go after people. Which is what happened one evening to a young boy delivering flyers. The boy wasn’t hurt because he got back on his bike and pedaled away, but he must have quit the job because I never saw him deliver in our area again. So I went back to Double Wide to inform him that enough really was enough. As before, he shrugged his shoulders. Regarding any potential fines, he told me, “It’s just money.” Which I took as a bit of a challenge. So I started issuing complaints over every incident (previously I had been only filing them after I accumulated ten or so) and, on a friend’s advice, started taking pictures of the dog running loose. I also talked to my neighbours, who had their own stories about friends or kids beings chased. (I urged them to complain to Animal Control, but, to my knowledge, none ever did. Thanks, gang!)

Our hero patiently awaiting his loyal pal, after setting him loose on the neighbourhood to have a piss, take a crap.

Begin Phase Three. Submitting photos seemed to have some effect on the folks at Animal Control because now some actual fines were being levied. One of the officers there told me that, despite the photos, Double Wide denied (1) that the dog was on the loose and (2) the dog was his. (It should be noted, however, that whenever Animal Control visited, Double Wide would make an effort to at least monitor his dog for a couple weeks. And then, as is his way, he’d revert to his lazy, irresponsible ways and would just leave the door open.) And, of course, he refused to pay. Which was regarded as pleading not guilty. So, I got to go to court as witness to two events, one of the many running loose charges and the chasing of the delivery boy. To no one’s surprise, Double Wide didn’t bother to show up at court. The judge found him guilty on the two counts ($50 and $100) plus another $100 for contempt (not showing up). Remarkably, the judge was initially inclined to show leniency and give him the benefit of the doubt because he wasn’t there to defend himself(!) but the prosecutor persuaded her that that was Double Wide’s choice and he shouldn’t benefit from his own irresponsibility.

So, yay? I mean, yeah, he was fined $250—and I have no way of knowing if he was ever forced to pay it—but this was after 3+ years of nonsense and fairly regular complaining. As much as it’s on Double Wide to act with some maturity and respect for his neighbours, the lesson to be learned, so it seems, is that only suckers follow the bylaws.

Since the court ruling, however, Double Wide has invested in a chain and leash—and it took just four years!—and the dog is chained him a fair amount of the time, especially since Double Wide has acquired some housemates. However, over the past month, the old ways of the open door policy are re-emerging. More, unfortunately, as it develops …

Next entry: The other animals in Double Wide’s life!

What's Going On in the Flower Bed?

2006-07-24T11:48:00.000-06:00

So, it's around 8.30 am, Saturday morning. No surprise that the door to Double Wide's house is open—it's always open, to let in/out air and animals, I presume, as well as to simulate a barn-like atmosphere—and, again no surprise, the crap music is cranked up (the usual: cheesy metal or techno, but the other day he had Cyndi Lauper blasting, so he is full of some surprises). Anyway, I look over my shoulder and see Double Wide standing in his flower bed (correction: weed bed) and see … well, let's let the photos speak.

Hmm, is Double Wide having a morning piss? Note the ubiquitous ass-crack.

Uh oh, maybe he's about to throw up.

Yep, sure looks like he's throwing up.

Waitaminnit! He's not throwing up! He's shaving his head!

Yes, he's shaving his head (and, later, his chest) out on the front lawn. I can only speculate why he isn't doing this inside. No broom to sweep up the hair? He's heard that hair is good fertilizer for the weeds? He's so drunk he thinks he's inside? Or, perhaps, like everything else about him, it's just that he likes to conduct his business in his front yard for everyone to see.

And, yes, ladies: he's still single.

Just Who Is Double Wide?

2006-07-23T18:23:00.000-06:00

Good question. For the last four years, the rental property across the street has been inhabited by a somewhat revolving cast of characters, but anchored by a trailer trash kid attending the local university. I call him Double Wide, because he seems to lack the requisite knowledge of how to live in a house, instead living his days as if he was in a trailer park. I have gone from irritation to resignation to, currently, intrigued pleasure at his daily antics. As long as he lives there—and, if he hasn't graduated or flunked out after four years, who knows how long he'll be able to stay a student—I will document his activities as they demonstrate his trailer trash lifestyle. Obviously, I have four years of stories to post, so these first few weeks should be rather rich in Double Widey-goodness.