he doesn't believe in knocking, apparently
5:32 pm, Friday, Dec. 23, 2005

I'm sitting at the family dinner table, wrapping presents and listening to not-at-all Christmas music (Cracker's "Sinaloa Cowboys" currently) and drinking plum wine. The music is turned up kind of loud because everyone else is gone.

I think I hear someone honking a car horn in a most obnoxious manner, but no, I think it's just an odd underbeat in the music. A moment later I think I hear someone bang on the side of the house but I'm not sure. It doesn't look like anyone is at the door but I go to the front and check it out. There is a car in the yard that I don't recognize. "Can I help you?" I begin to ask then recognize who the person is that is getting back into the car. "Oh, hey."

"I left some oysters on the side porch," he says, then he's back in his truck, slamming the door.

I close the door and show the curtained window my finger and add an accompanying "Fucker" for good measure.

Then, proud of myself, I do a little dance and sing the "I'm a bitch, I'm a bitch, I'm a big ol' bitch" song.

If you knew the back story, you'd have done the same.