My HOA President Tried to Fine Me. So I Became the HOA.

It started with a pink plastic flamingo and a petty little tyrant named Carol.

I had placed exactly eleven flamingos in a tasteful formation on my front lawn. There was symmetry, elegance, and one holding a martini glass. That’s called flair. Carol, the HOA President, called it a “violation of community guidelines.”

She slapped me with a $50 fine.

I slapped back with a campaign.

By the following Tuesday, my driveway was covered in banners:
“Vote Hot Josh: For a Sexier, Freer, Flamingo-Filled Future.”

I hosted lawn parties. I gave out cupcakes. I personally autographed every HOA mailer with a lipstick kiss and the phrase “You’re welcome.”

Election day came. I won in a landslide. Carol cried. I installed sixteen more flamingos.

The first rule I passed?
Flamingos are not only allowed—they’re mandatory.

The second?
HOA complaints must now be sung aloud in a public musical forum every Friday night.

Carol moved.

So what did I learn?
Power is beautiful. Flamingos are eternal. And if you come for Hot Josh’s lawn décor, prepare to hand over the HOA.