The Myriad of Ways My Neighbors Suck, Halloween 2007 Version

Originally posted Halloween, 2007.

Considering the recent “Spliffing” behind my building, and the “Spooging” in front of my building (as evidenced by the Coney Island Whitefish who has been dying an incredibly slow death a scant three feet from my front door);

And considering that last year I had some buck-toothed condo management hag appear at my door, on a particularly hot and sunny day when I was hanging my kurtas up for no more than a half hour, and audaciously attempted to gain access to my condo to “assist” me to take down the “offending” garments, as they were some type of “quality of life” infraction here at the condo;

I think this year I will opt out of this nonsense and simply be “unavailable” to attend to the annual begging forth of high fructose corn syrup products–my ego screams it, and simply put, my wallet thinks it’s the right thing to do (and the tasty way to do it!–damn you Wilfred!)

So Halloween morn’, I shall put my now-thriving yucca inside, as well as all my shoes. And after work, the Maharajah and I will go to dinner and the movies, and avoid the whole parade of beggars. I think this might be the beginnings of a lovely tradition.

Eat my corn, crotchlings!

The Myriad of Ways My Neighbors Suck: Coney Island Whitefish Edition

Hmmm, methinks a bit o’the bearded clam was used as bait…

 Example, as it was found, ironic enough,in the “bush” in the entryway to my condo.
If you notice, this “Coney Island Whitefish” was caught
“just after a feeding frenzy,” as evidenced by its
belly full of “chowder.”

I call this "Mitochondrial Still Life."

Fuckwit Neighbors & A Pellet Gun

Beating the Doucheitude Horse “deader”…
View, 8:45 a.m.:

Three additional cars met the same fate in our condo parking lot. A few cars over on a neighboring street did as well
.
The culprit? Some asshole gave their child a B.B. GUN. From what I’ve pieced together, Barnaby Jones style, is some teen was ambling up our street (perhaps with a friend who lives in our condo complex), and when they got to our parking lot, as they walked through, POP POP POP POP! with the B.B. gun. And then cut through someone else’s yard to get to the next street over (hit some more cars). I suspect the perpetrator lives one more street beyond.

The rear windshield was hit several times. Couple that up with the normal expansion and constriction which takes place on glass during normal evening/early morning frost. I got in my car. Slammed the door. And the friggin’ windshield just imploded.

At first I thought what type of parent would let their kid have a B.B. gun in this day and age when school violence is so prevalent. Then it occured to me that it could very well be a teen or an ADULT. This made me steam even more. Two years into this condo, and I’m hating it. The “fuck you” attitude in this particular area rests on the palate about as welcoming as a pre-puke bad penny taste.

Each of us stayed home (can’t drive it in that condition); two personal days lost. Close to $300 to get the windshield repaired.

Wanna know what would be priceless? If somewhere down the line Westco Med Center ends up with someone in the ER with a B.B. gun perma-wedged up someone’s ass.
And to further compound the unneighborly doucheyness…

I recognized one of the other cars as being one owned by someone who has been “friendly enough” with me. So I went to her condo to let her know about the car, just in case she hasn’t seen it. “Oh yes, I noticed it yesterday a.m., and noticed your car and two others…”

Um? You noticed yesterday? And this didn’t warrant a knock on my door to give me a head’s up?

It’s not that hot of a village we live in. One mile by one mile square. It’s really more like a “pass through” armpit of a village people drive through on their way to someplace else. Might as well be called “Anyplace But Here.” No sidewalks. No fantastic curb appeal on the main thoroughfare. Mindboggling traffic to get out of this area to get to work or “anyplace but here.” Yet, we bought the condo because it was in good condition, and the school district is fantastic… which really seems moot when you think about my custer-flucked ovaries.

I wish we bought a HOUSE. Communal living like apartments, condos or co-ops suck rank dingleberry-dangling, festering fistula horse ass.

Workplace What-The-Fuckery: The Shithouse (The Inaugural Edition)

YOU might be an asshole IF:

You have EITHER:  

1. Emailed me a picture of your morning bowel movement (and emailed it to my WORK email address. And by "bowel movement" I mean precisely that: BEHOLD!!! IT IS SANS TP!!!!); 

OR

2. Relentlessly called me AT WORK, on my cell, and texted me about how your fecal impaction was essentially holding you hostage (FOR SEVERAL DAYS, despite me giving you advice how to avoid such a predicament), and finally relent, and go to the hospital after TWO DAYS with a turd turtle head that refused to break off or go back in. 

Yes, madams (YES! This involves two different people), you are certifiable assholes.