Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Before I forget

This past weekend came and went without a barbeque downstairs. However, at around midnight on Saturday the dipshits started letting off fire crackers and cherry bombs. I repeat: AT MIDNIGHT. 

When I heard the first one go off, I thought, "Did I just hear what I thought I heard?"  By the time I had picked up the phone to call the police, the fifth one was cracking off. Apparently I was not the only one who called in with a noise complaint. A car came by, and all was quiet afterwards.

Now of course, I cannot be totally without a complaint here, can I? The complaint herein is that it took NINE RINGS for the 911 dispatch to pick up the phone. I could only imagine how much more terrifying say, something like a home invasion or rape or domestic abuse would be, waiting not for help to arrive, but waiting to merely SUMMON help. 


I truly do hate humanity, such as it is.

Monday, July 7, 2014

My Shitty Neighbors: Fourth of July Version

Next to Halloween, I detest the Fourth of July. I actually love both holidays, but the garbage wrapped in skin which passes for humanity tends to erode whatever "good feels" I may have about both holidays. 

In our household, we've instituted the tradition of dinner and a movie out, so we can avoid the bulk of trick or treaters. And looks like we have to do something similar for the Fourth of July. Our downstairs neighbors are a drunken, loud, smokey lot. Imagine an ESL version of Cartman from South Park (I do what I want!). Loud, rude, and have zero awareness or regard that, yanno, there are other people in their immediate proximity, who may not necessarily like having a living room full of noxious smoke, and being subjected to the audio equivalent of waterboarding, listening to the same 1-2 CDs on an endless loop for SIX hours, at LABIA VIBRATING decibels with the accompanying assholes all now in a full-tilt chatter yelling OVER the music. SIX-FUCKING-HOURS.
So, imagine my anger, when the first plumes of smoke followed by the tell-tale stink of too much lighter fluid first made its presence known.
Which then of course, prompted me to send the text to our on-site property manager. Please, behold! BEHOLD that STELLAR response time. 

Also bears sharing that once dusk hit, these fuckers didn't limit their open flames to the charcoal and lighter fluid. Once dusk hit, these assholes brought out FUCKING TIKI TORCHES. (Picture also sent to on-site property manager, which went unacknowledged.) 

Mind you: I am an owner. I do not rent. This is not low-income housing. My monthly maintenance fees I pay, PAY THIS ASSHOLE'S PAYCHECK. If he's not going to look into it? OWN THAT. If he's off site on vacation? OWN THAT, TOO. If someone from the condo board of managers should be contacted instead? OWN THAT AND LET ME KNOW WHO TO CALL. Do not DO NOTHING for six fucking hours... DO NOT DO NOTHING FOR THREE WHOLE DAYS OF A HOLIDAY WEEKEND.
So imagine my abject HORROR when, AGAIN. RINSE. REPEAT. IGNITE. AGAIN. WTF? So much for "I will look into it." Obviously, he hasn't.  And again, the above photo was sent on Saturday (now day TWO), which also went unacknowledged. At this point, my  husband took me out for dinner and a movie, just to remove me from the situation, but the reality was, all I wanted to do this weekend was a nice, QUIET weekend at home, which of course implied a weekend of not being for all intents and purposes SMOKE BOMBED out of my house.

At this point, I called the non-emergency phone # for our local fire department, which of course, WENT TO FUCKING VOICEMAIL.  So no resolution on that end. I called the main office for our condo, and again, no resolution.  The husband of course, sent an email to the property managing company's headquarters, but hello, after 5 on a holiday weekend? Yeah,  no resolution on that end either.

When Day Three came upon us, again, I zapped a text. I truly hate being THIS PERSON, but wtf? Should I just do nothing, and let these fuckers potentially light my balcony on fire?
On top of all this, our downstairs neighbors seemed to be hosting their own version of the Fresh Air Fund, and suddenly, out of no where it seemed, four small children were out there running around, making a fuckload of noise, and for all intents this appeared to be the first time they have ever encountered A LAWN.  As they all played and sat and rolled around on the grass, I was in bliss knowing how many dogs shit and piss right in that spot. BLISS, I TELL YOU!

And not to be outdone with the FUCK FIRE CODES, another batch of assholes decided FUCK IT, I DO WHAT I WANT! And decided to park however the fuck they wanted, as if, yanno, we're in the 'hood, and can park however they want, without consequences...
All this particularly chaps my ass when you factor in, when I first moved here ten years ago, on a particularly ideal day to hang gauzy kurtas up to dry, some bucktoothed hag from the condo board appeared AT MY MOTHERFUCKING DOOR to inform me "This isn't Hooterville," and then had the audacity to try to gain entry to my condo "to help take them down," (when I know the only reason she wanted access to my condo was to see OUR STUFF and to gossip about me). 

This IS ALSO on top of the fact that July 2013, I was fined $25 for a fucking plant stand that had a dead plant in it. Yet open flames and flagrant assholeish parking? Yeah, good times. 

Bottom line is, when we bought our condo we were assured that it was going to be nice and quiet, as end units tend to be, and well? In the ten years we've been here, we haven't had a moment's peace. And shit like this only brings out my inner Bruce Banner, "You won't like me when I'm angry. Don't make me angry."  

ETA: 2:30 p.m., FOUR DAYS LATER, finally the manager at the property management HQ replied to my emails, wanted the photos, and said he'll send a letter (a letter, of which, no doubt, will go unread). In the meantime, I have a call in to the Town Clerk's office, specifically, the building department, which oversees fire code enforcement. Waiting to get the call back, to find out how I can report the next BBQ, because you and I both know that is most-definitely going to happen again, letter or no letter.

ETA: 3:43 p.m. FOUR DAYS LATER, I got a call back from the township building inspector who handles fire code enforcement. Apparently ground floor units CAN have grills, provided they are 10 feet from the building (see photo, clearly NOT 10 feet from building, you can see it is immediately beneath my balcony). For future incidents during off-hours, I should call the police, who will in turn notify the fire marshal who will come out to inspect (hopefully AS IT IS STILL HAPPENING). 

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Seriously I Need a New Job

I spend all day plotting, when I should be PLOTZING. Help me find my ZING!

(Seriously, I long for the days of becoming someone useful and integral, respected and valued, kinda like Radar O'Reilly, only with working thumbs!)