The Flanders To My Homer

My neighbour-who-shall-remain-nameless has a strange way of going about things. He makes offhand comments like, "Hey, man, if you want to get rid of that crab grass, I have a sprayer, " or, "I know a great place that sells curtain rods." These comments come out of nowhere, so it's like he's trying to tell me what to do with my house, but by making friendly suggestions, as to not sound so insensitive. Maybe he's sincerely trying to help, but his demeanour suggests otherwise. I can't help but cringe every time he rings my doorbell, which is pretty often.
Earlier this week, he came over and asked if I'd be down for a neighbourhood cookout to get to know all the Americans that live around us. I agreed, but immediately began trying to think of ways to get out of it. The cookout was last night, and it turned out to be not so bad, after all. I met a couple other families in the area and developed a better rapport with the ones I already knew. I think I'll be able to handle my neighbour a little better, and it's a good thing because now he wants to do these cookouts every month.
As an added bonus, another neighbour from across the street now refers to me as "Naked Guy" because apparently, I got out of the shower one night with my window wide open. If he would have asked me to be a little more careful in the future, that would have been fine; but he dwelled on it for a really long time. So long that it sucked the humour out of the situation and everyone started to feel kinda awkward every time he brought it up. Perhaps he enjoyed my "floppiness" (his description) more than he wanted to admit.