We Salute you, Mr. PBR

So, we recently moved down the street from our old house and never would have guessed we were moving into such a new unseemly neighborhood! Well, it's not really the neighborhood that's unseemly, just the one neighbor whose back porch overlooks our little side yard.


I call him Mr. PBR because the morning we were first introduced was day two of living in our new place and he had moved in across the way the night before. I was sitting peering out my favorite window in the house, which had yet to be donned with curtains. It should have felt like I was on display, but instead seemed he was. It was nary seven thirty am and this neighbor walked out, cracked a beer and lit a cigarette. The sight of it turned my stomach. I immediately named him Mr. PBR for the Pabst Blue Ribbon he was drinking.

There have been many Mr. PBR sightings since that first one, every morning in fact. Let's just say curtains were a real priority. This morning, there was not only the breakfast treat of beer and cigarettes, but a lovely porn magazine, as well. Nothing like a trifecta of seediness to kick off the day.






So, to you Mr. PBR drinking in the morning, Homer Simpson pajama, porn reading man, we salute you...and pray you are not a pedophile.