Asshattery at 3:00 a.m.
I am vewy, vewy angwy. If you like to think of me as a 100% meek and forgiving girl, please don't read this post.
The two gigantic, inconsiderate redneck hookers on the second floor (one of whom moved herself and her monstrous two-year-old in with the other despite the lease clearly stating that maximum occupancy is one, and one only) agreed that one would rent the back apartment on the first floor when Mary confronted them and said she had the unit open.
They somehow got it into their empty heads that it was absolutely necessary to move all her belongings downstairs in the middle of the night, even though to the best of my knowledge, neither has a job that would prevent them from accomplishing this during the day.
So last night at 2:30 a.m., I woke up to the sound of two tie-dyed elephants charging down the wooden stairs, occasionally dropping heavy items that would bounce loudly to the bottom of the staircase (directly over my head) and crash into the wall. I kept waiting to hear sirens, hoping one would fall and break her neck. They cursed loudly and giggled and stomped and slammed doors and invited a horde of class-free friends over to participate. This went on for three hours, at which time they decided to hammer nails into the wall to hang whatever worthless idiots like that hang in their homes.
I would have liked to meet them at the bottom of the stairs one trip with a shotgun and my game face on, but instead I tossed and turned for four hours and plotted revenge. I happened to be shoveling out a spot for the Cadillac the other day after work (I moved a pile of plowed snow the size of a Volkswagen) when they came out of the back apartment, and I overheard one saying to the other, "I can't lock the door because she hasn't given me a key yet." If I know Mary (and after three years of tenancy you better bet your buttons I do), the b$%@# still doesn't have a key. And I have two really old eggs in the fridge and a litterbox full of fresh cat poop, and I can get my hands on some smelly shrimp tails pretty easily.
Somebody stop me.
The two gigantic, inconsiderate redneck hookers on the second floor (one of whom moved herself and her monstrous two-year-old in with the other despite the lease clearly stating that maximum occupancy is one, and one only) agreed that one would rent the back apartment on the first floor when Mary confronted them and said she had the unit open.
They somehow got it into their empty heads that it was absolutely necessary to move all her belongings downstairs in the middle of the night, even though to the best of my knowledge, neither has a job that would prevent them from accomplishing this during the day.
So last night at 2:30 a.m., I woke up to the sound of two tie-dyed elephants charging down the wooden stairs, occasionally dropping heavy items that would bounce loudly to the bottom of the staircase (directly over my head) and crash into the wall. I kept waiting to hear sirens, hoping one would fall and break her neck. They cursed loudly and giggled and stomped and slammed doors and invited a horde of class-free friends over to participate. This went on for three hours, at which time they decided to hammer nails into the wall to hang whatever worthless idiots like that hang in their homes.
I would have liked to meet them at the bottom of the stairs one trip with a shotgun and my game face on, but instead I tossed and turned for four hours and plotted revenge. I happened to be shoveling out a spot for the Cadillac the other day after work (I moved a pile of plowed snow the size of a Volkswagen) when they came out of the back apartment, and I overheard one saying to the other, "I can't lock the door because she hasn't given me a key yet." If I know Mary (and after three years of tenancy you better bet your buttons I do), the b$%@# still doesn't have a key. And I have two really old eggs in the fridge and a litterbox full of fresh cat poop, and I can get my hands on some smelly shrimp tails pretty easily.
Somebody stop me.
posted by A at
10:22 AM
8 Comments:
Naw, see. You wanna call up the local Kingdom Hall and tell 'em you and your best friend are interested in hearing what they have to say. Real interested. And give 'em boozy and floozy's addresses.
Now that is an excellent idea. And the missionaries, don't forget the Mormon missionaries. I know lots of those.
I gotta agree, as much as I distaste those types of people, it's better to take action that won't leave any trace evidence. An anonymous tip that they would like to learn more about the great book of mormon would be a good place to start. Notice I said - a good place to start. >:)
Or, if you could access the apartment (coughB&Ecough), you could pull an Amelie operation, just to screw with their heads: reset alarm clocks; rearrange the furniture imperceptibly but strategically to maximize toe stubbing and shin banging; replace/switch certain toiletries; fray lamp cords; switch their hot/cold water valves so that their toilet seat is scalding hot and the bowl steams like a schvitz; give them an "upper decker" with catshit; do a load of laundry for them in warm water so their clothes won't quite fit anymore; hide a remote doorbell, then press the button from the quietude of your apartment whenever you feel like it; et cetera.
So I'm totally justified for feeling this way, right? Because it's 11:00 p.m. Friday night now, and things are pretty quiet up there, and I'm having a really hard time resisting making a LOT of noise in my living room, which is right under their bedroom. I should really practice the violin right now.
"Upper decker?"
That asshatery was trademarked. I'll take my royalty money thank you.
:-)
Courtesy of our friends at The Waahmbulance, an "upper decker" involves the placement of excrement in the top tank of a person's toilet. Apparently, foulness ensues with every flush, without actually impeding the flushing in any way, and as long as the mechanism is in working order, who's going to think to lift the lid for a look? This could go on for days. And presuming that the rankness would affect their apartment and not your own (proximity notwithstanding), it's a win-win because it even lets your cats participate.
That is flipping brilliant.
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