Caterwauling

I keep singing BNL’s “One Week” every time I look at my dashboard and see the countdown. Never liked the song when it was popular during my college days, but I find it oddly comforting now.

Yesterday Mom said Thundercunt raged most of the day but then, just before I got home, took one kid (we believe the Fraggle) and left for the night.

She said she thinks Fraggle has a nervous tic. The louder the Thunders fight, the more loudly and consistently she bangs things off the floor.

When they are quiet(er) like they are right now, I can find the compassion that’s impossible to come by otherwise. But I imagine as their moving day draws nearer and tensions rise, we’ll hear enough noise to last us nine lifetimes.

***

We have this cute 4-year-old neighbor and his mom who loved the massive family of ducks who used to come here. He always had wide eyes and exclaimed about how many ducks he saw.

She often came by with other children too. I think she had four but yesterday she just brought the boy.

I wasn’t home for it but Mom said you could hear her and the boy saying they were SURE this was the area with all the ducks. Where did they go?

Mom called down that we were told not to feed them anymore. Too many were congregating. So, they were gone.

They were crushed. The lady said she was so busy and he’s been begging to come visit the ducks. She said she’s now “heard everything” that we aren’t allowed to feed the ducks.

I asked Mom to be careful with her wording. We “can” feed them — just as long as it’s not off the balcony. I said she should have told her that this place values homely residents with unruly dogs over cute little duckies.

The mom and little boy left disappointed. They aren’t the first. But for some reason I really liked them and wished all my neighbors were so wonderful.

I’ve not seen hide nor hair of the bitch who chased me around the lake. I am sure she’s here but maybe now that things have blown over, I’ll try to make an appearance outside again.

With the two cans of pepper spray I bought to fend off unruly neighbors and their dogs, of course.

Yesterday brought a miracle, my new nephew H.  

My friends have been trying to have a baby for years. There are no options, natural or scientific, that they did not explore. 

And yesterday at 10:05 a.m., the world got a little bigger and a whole lot cuter. 

Having a baby is the ultimate act of faith. You somehow trust the universe will take care of him, of you, of your family for the rest of your lives. 

My faith is not that big. I wish it were. All I have to do is look at the news and see the peaceful protest for the violent death of Corey Jones, see another local cop who shot a dog who was waiting in an open car for his owner to take him to the vet, see the girl raped on a cop car in mah ‘hood and he got off Scot-free, and see the funeral of a high school friend’s nephew … and it’s not a world i want to be in, let alone put any kind of faith into. 

But if anyone can handle raising a good child in a messed-up world, my friends can. And I’ll do everything I can to help because I believe in them. 

I wonder if the two girls upstairs were as wanted as H. I’d bet not. I imagine these two twits upstairs just did their jungle boogie after a fight and bam, shit out kids. Just what the world needs, for that demon spawn to perpetuate. Sigh. 

It’s a long shot to hope they will turn out well. But the universe has a funny way of giving me the finger. They may not act civilized at their next house. But eventually they will grow up and move out on their own. And one day, I won’t even remember that I ever knew them because I’ll be hanging by the pool with people I actually want to be around. 

And the act of faith it’s taking to think that way may be the biggest one I’ve achieved in years. 

Because why wouldn’t it happen that, on top of losing my keys and not wanting to pay to get a new mailbox lock, someone would hack my Walmart.com account … charge things to my stored Amex … and Wal-Mart customer service would ask me NOT to cancel the card just yet (hah) … and I’d lose all my gift certificates/reward dollars AND be asked to pay a $25 fee to reinstate my account … and now I have to pay for that fucking mailbox because I have a new Amex arriving this weekend?

I don’t know what I did to piss off the karma gods. But I could sure use some good vibes in helping to get off their shit list.

“You seem so out of context in this gaudy apartment complex
A stranger with your door key explaining that I am just visiting
And I am finally seeing
Why I was the one worth leaving
Why I was the one worth leaving
D.C. sleeps alone tonight.”

— Birdy, “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight”

That moment when you have two laptops, a weekend’s worth of work ahead of you, a mandatory Sunday night/Monday morning project every week anyway … and a total inability to access your work computer.

I’m doing what I can with what I have (i.e., phone and a really good colleague). Tomorrow, go to office to work. Sunday, work at home. And drink all the damn while.

I got to thinking about a lot of things last night.

Russell quitting his job to take care of his wife. Is that what is going to happen to me if/when Mom gets sicker? The only thing in life that gives me any sort of purpose is work. Or maybe it’s money. But I think it’s work. I do like what I do. But what if I had to take care of her … could/would I? And how long would it take for me to kill us both?

Russell loving his wife for nearly 70 years when every man I know is at his wits’ end trying to figure out how to cheat or at least whack off without being caught.

Oh, who am I kidding. Every man I know … and probably me if I stayed with any of them long enough.

Related, I have nothing to say about the Ashley Madison debacle other than that maybe we need to finally redefine privacy as what we in management know as, “You can see and do all the evil you want. Just don’t speak about it … yours or anyone else’s.”

I’m feeling terribly uninspired. I want to say it’s because of the lack of sleep/peace/sanity. Although the psychos upstairs did give me one good night on Saturday. Or maybe it’s that life is progressing at the speed it’s supposed to be (i.e., not warp speed).

Or maybe I was built for mental warp speed but my body can’t keep up anymore, so I should just get comfortable for a change.

Or maybe I need to leave the party before they ask me to. Or decide for me.

Because, people making decisions on my behalf has never ended well.

I’m thinking about Europe again. And also about cleaning the office. I have enough SkyMiles to get the fuck out of town. I also have a new vacuum cleaner and other supplies in my trunk.

Last time I was planning a trip to Europe, I got shitcanned. Last time I cleaned an office, I got shitcanned. Well I had to shitcan myself but I’ll spare you that sob story.

In any event, I’m getting real fucking tired of planning my life and seeing it spread its butt cheeks and shit all over any semblance of progress on my part.

I made a random comment on a story on Facebook. It was about a bunch of girls on a wine train being thrown off for being too loud. I said let the girls have fun and maybe throw my violent neighbors out instead for screaming at each other, their kids and me for five-plus months.

People commented to say violence cannot be tolerated. Screaming turns to hitting.

Tell that to my HOA. Or maybe that explains why they don’t/can’t do anything … because they get threatened too.

I went to a gun store yesterday. Ended up with pepper spray and a taser for when I can get Big Giant Pussy to sneak his balls out of Thundercunt’s purse long enough for me to zap them.

I’m tired of being afraid that they’ve messed with my car (again). Or that they will mow me down in the parking garage. Or that they could have any power over me.

I survived a stalker. I really don’t need this shit.

Anyway. The guy at the gun store said, “Ever consider concealed carry?” I said, “Nah, I’m a Democrat.” I did not say, “More than you know.”

Last night as Fraggle donned her concrete shoes and STOMPED ALL OVER MY HEAD past 10 p.m. (I mean, she started after 10 p.m.), and I screamed my fucking head off to go to bed already, I thought about that gun. And how I would have shot through the ceiling if I had it.

So yeah, no concealed carry here.

I went to the police and fire stations yesterday. Nice people in my town. Truly. They asked where I live and I said the complex and they said, “Umm hmmm.”

Not only do they know the place, I think they know exactly who I mean. Even though they didn’t say it. They wished me luck and gave me the number of someone I need to call to discuss this further with.

Don’t think I won’t do it.

I just feel bad that even the people who are willing to put their lives on the line to protect me, can’t do it. Says a lot about this world. And that makes me sad.

Maybe I need that trip to Europe after all. I just can’t imagine leaving Mom to listen to those fuckwits all day and night alone with no protection.

For what it’s worth, when fuckwits went silent, I LOVED my apartment. Loved, loved, loved it. It was everything I dreamed it would be.

See what happens when I dream? *crush* I don’t know if it was kind or cruel of the universe to give me a taste of what I’m obviously not allowed to have.

Of course, isn’t that what relationships and jobs are for? WHY MY HOUSE INSTEAD?!?!!

QOTD: “I’m not traveling home with a mouthful of dick.” — Mom

The strokes have pretty much killed all semblance of speech and reason. She was referring to the fact that Kadie has a “mouthful” of duck-flavored food left that she is just going to throw away rather than have it stink up the car. 

I am probably the only one who understands her language now. The good news is, at least she understands when she says things wrong even if she has no idea how to correct herself. 

To go get some lunch to escape the ass smell for a few minutes, or to hope I can leave at a reasonable-ish hour and not have to return to this butt-funk?

I’m ready to cry. 

It’s been a while since I posted a no-good-very-bad-day entry. Mostly because the four people who stressed me out most (neighbors notwithstanding) are gone from my life and I am THRILLED to be alive without their collective weight crushing my soul.

But let’s go for it today.

1. Woman I never particularly cared for left me a ripping message on my Faceypages wall to tell me she thinks I’m a bully (?). The phrase “your stupid” was part of her missive.

1.a. So … thank you for posting something offensive to MY wall about ME in regard to things I post to MY wall.

1.b. P.S. It’s YOU’RE, you twit.

2. 24/7 fire alarms going off notwithstanding, there is maintenance being done in every bathroom, on every floor. So I go to the coffee shop next door to pee.

2.a. And my toilet is broken at home and my landlord won’t write me back because I also told him I want to move out because I can’t take the upstairs neighbors anymore. Can’t pee at home either.

3. Oh yeah someone is at every exit door, scraping the paint off the doors. So it’s not like you can GO PAST THEM to go down the stairs to go to the coffee shop next door.

4. Did I mention the elevator isn’t working and that the fact that its wires smell like they’re burning is probably WHAT IS MAKING THE FIRE ALARMS GO OFF ALL DAY AND NIGHT?

5. This place smells pretty awful too. Is it smoke? Is it wet trash? Is it the wires in my head crossing and creating a brush fire?

Other than that? It’s a pretty good day, Tater. One less idiot I have to worry about posting to my Facebook wall (I got unfwiended. Waaah. Not). And climbing down the falling-apart fire escape sure beats having to push the cat out of the litterbox when I have to go.

‘Tis the season to hear how great everyone’s vacations were.

Do me a big fat fucking favor and suck it, if you feel the need to share with me.

I don’t want to hear it.

I don’t care.

Can’t escape. Can’t afford to escape. Couldn’t do it even if you paid me $7,500 like that company I just read about that actually pays its employees cash to check the fuck out for a week or two.

Nope. I am going to do what I always do and be thankful I’m employed for another pay cycle.

And be even more grateful that I don’t live in Greece right now.

Me to Mom: I was talking to (powerful friend). I mentioned (so-and-so) might contact them for a job.

Mom: What did (powerful friend) say?

Me: That (so-and-so) isn’t smart enough to think of doing that. Also, that they wouldn’t get past the front door.

Mom: No one in their right mind would hire that person. (So-and-so) needs to move out of the state.