Sep 17

I wouldn’t be surprised by a water balloon baptism.

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As I mentioned two or three hundred times over the past few months, the husband and I moved to the other side of town at the beginning of September because our former management company decided to pull a dickbag move and jack our rent. Then, to add insult to ‘fuck you’, they also decided that they’d stop paying for heat, water/sewer, and trash. I hate moving, but I refuse to pay what amounts to about $150 a month for no added value.

So we moved across town to what is effectively Little Mexico. I met one white guy in our laundry room this past week, but that dude was so pale as to be albino and then he covered it with some really scary tattoos. That encounter set off banjo music and panic, so I decided against being his BFF. Other than the skin crawling encounter with white supremacist Jed, it’s been a pretty good experience in the new place. I seldom see my neighbors and never hear them. Their cars, on the other hand, can be heard from a mile away due to a combination of loud bass and shameful disrepair.

It’s a wonder they don’t break apart from all the vibration…


But as with every other place I’ve lived, I have no burning desire to be friends with my neighbors. I probably won’t introduce myself, I won’t be inviting them to the housewarming party, and unless I get stuck in the creepy ass laundry room with one of them, I doubt that I’ll ever have a conversation with them.On the rare day when I have occasion to pass one of my neighbors in the hall or parking lot, they tend to be a judgmental bunch of bastards. Of course, they make their snide remarks in Spanish because obviously, I didn’t spend 7 years in California and it’s just beyond comprehension that I may speak and understand it myself…

As I was pulling into the parking lot last weekend after a trip to Target for yet another shelf, or shower curtain, or whatever home maintenance item I was seeking, I happened to have the windows rolled down and the music turned up. It was a nice day, and a pretty kick ass song. I wasn’t even a fraction as loud as everyone else on the block and I will make no apologies for the volume.  Luckily, the volume of my stereo wasn’t at issue so much as the fact that I am bride of Satan (esposa del diablo) sent to corrupt (pervetir) everyone with my devil music (musica del diablo). Granted, she was walking away rather quickly while crossing herself and giving me the Catholic stink eye, and maybe I missed a couple words that could have provided better context. Then again, I was listening to Highway to Hell and I recognized her words and their implied disdain quite distinctly.

Ay! Dios mio! It’s judging me right now…

On Thursday night, I was trying to do a few loads of  laundry and I happened to trounce through the hallway lugging my laundry hamper, dressed in a stylish pair of athletic shorts and matching athletic tank. It is, of course, form fit with a built in sports bra, but it’s pretty obvious that I have big boobs. As I was doing my laundry walk of shame through the basement hallway, I was met by a pair of ladies who were coming back from their evening constitutional. Which is a classy way of saying “gossip walk” because as they passed me in the hall, I heard one of them mumble to the other, “tetas falsas.” Yep, you guessed it- fake tits.  I couldn’t let that one pass – I called after them, “Hablo Espanol! *to myself* Putas.”

On Wednesday evening, I was making yet another trip to pick up more house shit and one of the little boys who plays around the parking lot every night ran up to me in the parking lot, stamped his foot and said to me quite matter-of-factly, “You look just like my teacher! But she’s nice.” Then he ran away, just in case I tried to eat him or something. And in case I didn’t hear him the first time, he repeated himself as I was heading back to my apartment. Little man, you have no idea…

In short, this apartment is an improvement over the old one, but I still find the neighbors less than intellectually stimulating. Let ’em hate. They can spit all over my “I Love Satan” doormat while I get classily wasted on fine wine judge them for being assholes. All that really matters is that I don’t have to move again. For at least a year, anyway.


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  1. Misty

    Wait…..YOU love Satan, too? That bastard told me I was the ONLY one! Fuck. I thought I’d finally found THE ONE. That’s what I get for trusting a man with horns.
    Misty recently posted..Pleas and Thank YouMy Profile

    1. admin

      Oh, please. You know that whore demon has his forked penis in everyone.

  2. Valerie

    You should probably sacrifice a goat and bathe in it’s blood on the front lawn. I read somewhere that it’ll help in these type of situations… Or… make your periods lighter. Either way, it’s a win/win scenario.


    Valerie recently posted..Monday is stalking meMy Profile

    1. admin

      But goats are adorable! Can’t I sacrifice a liberal arts major instead? I’m sure that would handle cramps and headaches too!
      Admin recently posted..I wouldn’t be surprised by a water balloon baptism.My Profile

      1. Valerie

        Yea… You’re right. I love goats too much. Let’s kill something no one would miss… Like… Clowns!!!! :oD
        Valerie recently posted..My 6 year old is more bad ass than 99% of the people I have ever metMy Profile

  3. bluzdude

    I live in a predominantly Orthodox Jewish neighborhood, complete with the dudes in black coats and hats and long beards, that have to walk to Temple every Saturday. Not that it bothers me or anything. To each, his own. And as far as I know, there are no gangs of Orthodox Jews breaking into houses and stuff.

    Nevertheless, I get a little tingle every time I roar by them in my car, blasting AC/DC. If only I could get the exhaust to smell like bacon… I’m probably on the Highway to Hell as well…
    bluzdude recently posted..Retail Bluz Part 2My Profile

    1. admin

      Ooh… bacon exhaust… That would be an excellent way to encourage stupid people to suck tailpipe and Darwinate. Must get to patent office, stat!
      Admin recently posted..I wouldn’t be surprised by a water balloon baptism.My Profile

  4. Jana

    My next goal is to learn to speak Vietnamese because those bitches who give me a pedicure are ALWAYS talkin trash!
    Jana recently posted..Popping Boobies, Sugar Daddies, and calling it like we see it!My Profile

    1. admin

      QFT. I refuse to go get a pedicure anymore because #1- I’m better. #2- I’m cheaper. #3- Even if I do get all judgmental on myself, I can just ignore me.

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