Crispy

August 13th, 2015, 9:16 AM by Goddess

I joined a company a long time ago. It was basically the founders and their longtime helpers. And then I came in as part of the next generation.  

My pedigree was pretty good. But I always had that feeling that because I wasn’t part of the original crew, I was somehow “lesser than.”

They had an ownership stake. I didn’t. But I worked like I did.  I can’t say I saw the same effort from them. 

 I see a guy I met back in those days and he said he remembered how early/late I was always there. Even on weekends. 

My friend wondered why the business failed, when so many of us worked so hard to support it. 

What he didn’t realize is the founders were so burned out, they weren’t involved. Well, unless it was to gum up the works and throw around authority in an attempt to make the fresher blood as crazy (I’ll call it burned out to be nice) as they were. 

I got my chance eventually to be on the ground floor of something. Punched a clock for an awful long time. And by punching a clock, I mean throwing my alarm across the room at 5 a.m. every day because I had to make the donuts. Again. And again. 

While I would never end up the way the original crew did, I see myself and my original mouseketeers heading there.

I mean, not in a “positive drug test means you passed!” kind of way. 
But  rather, wanting to chill a little. Get some distance, some perspective. Put a new wick in the neverending ball of wax. 

Alas, an unimaginable luxury at this stage. 



She works (too) hard for the money

August 12th, 2015, 1:24 PM by Goddess

If I see one more person taking 1 to 2 (or given my affluent circle, 4 to 6) weeks off, I’m gonna line them all up and kick them in the nuts. 

Things are a little slow right now. It’s a function of summer doldrums, the supervisory problem being shifted and general “my vacation happens in half-hour bursts in my head.”

I am generally happy. I just feel left out of the “fun” part of life. And it doesn’t bypass my conscience that my “not terribly busy” is most others’ “ermagerd soooo swamped” state. 

Of course if I were free to do whatever, I’d probably have a meltdown of a different sort post-restraint-gnawing. 



All over the place

August 11th, 2015, 7:52 PM by Goddess

Here we go.

Neighbors haven’t died from my death stare yet. Or from me standing on a ladder and shouting “Shut up!” and “Be quiet!” through the vents. Of course, they can’t hear me over the banging and now the rap music they play at all hours now.

***

I dredged up an old text I tried to put out of my mind a long time ago. I am sure I had my reasons. Sleeping dogs and lying and all that jazz. Now I’m sure backlash awaits. In several forms.

***

Toof. Hurts. Someone get mom some healthcare so I can feel worthy of using mine while I still have it.

***

The guy who cleans my work building is on Day 2 of a two-week vacation. The secret bathroom he gave me access to is so secret, his backup guy hasn’t found it yet. It’s like my Calico Maddie came back from beyond and started wiping her ass on the walls again. It’s that gross.

***

I don’t understand why vacations are only for slackers or the unemployed. If I don’t get a break before things explode later this year … oh who am I kidding. Last “vacation” I had was … um, shit. Can’t recall.

***

I’m terrified the neighbors will squat when their lease is up. Or that the HOA has lied through their teeth and I’m stuck with these mofos. Whom I have named. And these are not flattering names. And I will probably call them those names to their fugly little faces.

***

I’m finding that the older I get, the harder it is to hogtie my Inner Bitch in the trunk. She will reach out and punch someone in a heartbeat. And if I don’t let her, she kicks me in the shin while she struggles.

***

I try to tell myself that I’m relatively healthy and sane and I eat well and life could be worse. And generally I can see my friends being happy and be happy for them. But at some point, how can one help but wonder why some people are so happy that there isn’t enough of the real stuff left over for the rest of us.

***

I need a break. From everything. And I do mean everything. Did I say everything? Ev. Ree. Thing.



48 hours

August 9th, 2015, 8:10 AM by Goddess

“I don’t get no sleep.
No, I don’t get no peace.”

— Caitlin Hart “Girl Crush”

I’m not giving the song credit to Little Big Town because they suck. Caitlin Hart’s version is SO MUCH BETTER.

In any event, I confronted the psycho neighbors Friday morning. I’ve had four months of screaming and floor-rattling. I’ve had it with them telling the cops/security/HOA that “It isn’t us.”

So I’ve been parking my ass outside their door, their car door and even my door, recording them.

Yesterday after another night of no sleep and being violently awakened to whatever they needed to yell about, I said, “I need you to keep it down at least during sleeping hours.”

They started yelling at ME.

If that doesn’t prove things, I don’t know what does.

Illiterate assholes.

I got the whole “it isn’t us; it’s the people above us” line. Bullshit. I know Maia and her boyfriend. I introduced myself to them and learned how miserable it is to be their upstairs neighbor.

But I didn’t say that. I kept my cool till the end.

I said if that’s true, and even if it isn’t, it is up to US to set the example in this community.

Further, I said this is a quiet community and yours are the only voices I hear. And your brats rattle my ceiling and you apparently think it’s cool to drop things all day. It isn’t. And you can’t blame that on anyone else.

Knowing they were busted, the He-Banshee started screaming at me that he’s allowed to do whatever he wants in his own house and it’s my fault that I hear them.

Oh the fury, on both our parts.

I said you pay for your space and I pay for my space. And I will be happy if they never overlap. But I know every word you people say and I know all your business because you’re so loud about it.

(Mom had heard the She-Banshee saying that she doesn’t want the neighbors to know her business. BOOYA, BITCH.)

I almost said that I hear him whine how the She-Banshee “doesn’t love him.” But there was some guiding force in the universe that was holding back my Inner Bitch with a straitjacket. And only sensible things seemed to come out of my mouth.

They said they and their friends have seen me watching them. And I am welcome to come up anytime to see that everything in their house is fine. They said they let the cops and security see that all is well, too. And that they are ASLEEP when the cops come.

(I always tell the cops they smash things and that they have two babies. Because, truth.)

Also, truth that they are the ones causing the commotion.
Like hell they are asleep. But it occurred to me that they still don’t know I’m the one who’s been reporting them.

I said I don’t care what you do in there. Just let me get some damn peace. I work from home and I like to go to bed at a normal hour. How about they put their babies to bed instead of letting them run around all night.

At this point the He-Banshee is as red in the face as his dark complexion would allow, and he’s screaming at me that I should go buy a house if I don’t like hearing them. Apartment walls are thin and it’s my fault I CHOOSE to hear him and he’s a great neighbor and he’s not changing anything for me and I can just LEAVE.

I lost it there. I said YOU should buy a house. Take your mouth and your kids and let them run around and grow up where they aren’t making other tenants want to run them out of town. I said I’d rather move than spend another minute around people who refuse to modulate their voices.

They didn’t know what modulate means.

Morons.

Then the She-Banshee led him away. I’ve noticed that with their fights. She will instigate every one of them, get him riled up, and then leave him screaming down the hall after her.

So anyway, I got a good 48 hours. Not silent, but bearable. And then I awakened to an eruption this morning.

Back to normal I guess.

But it’s interesting.

Even Mom said, for all their combativeness and disrespect toward me, she said they really seemed like they knew something was different. That now that I’ve had this chat with them, I’m going to back it up and hold them accountable.

They are trash and they have proven it time and again. Unfortunately I have no choice but to live with it till one of us leaves. I documented the part where he admitted “he can do what he wants and you can go buy a house” for the HOA. They said they’ve heard that from him before; their speech sounds pretty rehearsed.

But the way I figure, people who don’t know what “modulate” means certainly don’t document anything. So, everything is in my favor right now.

I just can’t help but get the feeling that if I were the noisemaker, I’d be out on my ass instead of everyone shrugging and saying, “Welp, can’t do anything.”

I don’t know why these fuckers get special favor. But if I have to be the one to run them out of town (or else lose the rest of savings on relocating), it’s what I have to do …



Putting it into the universe …

August 6th, 2015, 9:08 AM by Goddess

I got to thinking last night after I posted about life a decade-plus after being “Dooced”

Posting personal stuff was my way of diary-ing and also having people not argue with me.

I also got to thinking about Jon Stewart leaving the “Daily Show” after 16 years of absolute magic, IMHO.

As Lewis Black said about Jon, yeah he’s an icon and a fixture and a trusted source of news for many citizens. But he’s got so much creativity left in him that this is a chance for HIM to do something to make him grow.

And I thought, wow. He’s not stopping a good thing. He’s opening up the door to a universe of greater things.

I think that about my little life. I want so badly to just be comfortable — to enjoy my overpriced apartment, to love my work long enough to build up a nest egg, to just keep finding pleasure in the little things since the big things don’t seem to be in store for me.

But …

I want my fire lit from both ends of the fuse.

I want an earth-shattering, pillow-biting-to-muffle-the-sound orgasm like I had last night, but every day.

I want to be part of something not just special, but spectacular.

Keep your mediocrity away from me, world. I’m ready to risk it all for the chance to be over-the-top thrilled that I was put on this earth.

BRING IT. And I will, too. I promise.



More than a decade after being ‘dooced’ …

August 5th, 2015, 10:04 PM by Goddess

“I don’t know a single blogger who even enjoys it any more. There was a time when we loved every minute of it, we would gush and say oh my god, we love it. Now we say there’s times when we still love parts of it, but nobody sits down at the end of the day and pours a drink and says “Oh I had the most glorious day”. There are only now parts of it we still enjoy but there’s not that enthusiasm for the whole thing any more.”

Thinking of Quitting Blogging? Here’s What Dooce Did Next

I loved being part of the D.C. blogging community. We formed lifelong friendships … and I developed an utter distaste for Libertarians because of CERTAIN Libertarians who felt the need to come to my page and bash my take on the world.

Funny, I’ve organically gravitated from tree-hugging Liberal to pseudo-Libertarian since the self-important people wrote me off as hopeless and I quit talking politics.

It kills me that I stopped talking about things that meant a lot to me. Not just politics but work. I mean, I have stories on top of stories and what I have done since my own “doocing” has been tame.

In any event, I agree with Heather. It’s not as much fun as it was. But I never tried to court advertisers and write sponsored posts. I deleted every single request I get to get paid to say something. Eventually, people stopped asking.

And many more people stopped reading.

That’s OK. I’m paying way too much to Public Storage to hold my dozens of paper diaries. I’m all right with maintaining my long-held little corner of the Internet.

It’s done me more good than damage. And I’ll keep writing here forever if I can. I wish more of the cool kids were still doing it with me.



Tales of the unemployable

August 5th, 2015, 8:38 AM by Goddess

I just discovered two things that I put on Pinhead’s to-do list — urgent things … things I didn’t want to get sued over .. easy things that even a pinhead could do … that were never done.

It is taking everything in me to not jump in the car and go haunt this person.

I take responsibility. And fixed it all wordlessly, as someone asked what’s on my to-do list and I chirped, “Oh, nothing much!”

Of course, it goes to show that those of us who worry every day about staying employed — and who actually work to stay employed — generally win in the end over those who feel entitled to be paid just for washing their ass and showing up.



Perspective

August 5th, 2015, 12:01 AM by Goddess

Two things happened on the way home from work Monday as I was contemplating driving the POS car into the ocean so I didn’t have to go home to my loud-ass apartment and do more work. (That I didn’t end up doing. Because, traumatized.)

I had the rare pleasure of taking the A1A. Rare because I don’t live on it anymore. In any event, I had to go back to the mainland and hop on the freeway. Which I admit I like living by the freeway because it’s so convenient.

In any event, I was at an intersection, ready to turn right on red. But that weird little voice told me not to.

I was facing west. A guy on a Vespa came from the south, going north, through the intersection. Then some jagoff going southbound decided to turn east on a dime.

Jagoff (gold car, maybe a sedan. I wasn’t paying attention) DROVE INTO the Vespa guy. He went sailing into the air and the bike flew across the intersection and practically under my car.

He was mostly fine. Bike was mostly fine. Bicyclist who witnessed it all helped him. He kept saying, “You had the right of way. You had the right of way.” In total disbelief.

Why the disbelief?

The fucking gold car driver KEPT DRIVING AND NEVER CAME BACK.

I sat there for a while. I was horrified. I couldn’t unclamp my hands from my mouth.

I mean, I live amongst psychos, yes. But they never MOWED ME OVER. Not to say they wouldn’t, given the opportunity. But mother of God, WHO HITS A GUY off his bike?

He had been smiling and riding along. I remember that. It was kind of why I didn’t want to turn. I didn’t see the need to ruin his flow. I had no one behind me to honk so I was cool taking a rare slow moment.

Jesus H. PEOPLE. Faith in humanity shaken.

So the other thing.

There’s a local reporter who has a connection to one of my old bosses in D.C. I ended up following the local girl’s blog because she and her twin sister both got married around the age of 35 and they gave me hope that I might still have a shot at my happily ever after.

We’re over 40 together now. They were so happy … until now. The reporter girl’s husband just died suddenly.

Her spirit is amazing. She’s taking some time off from the paper and blogging so she can adjust to her new reality.

She presents a brave front. But my heart aches because I just assumed that when we wait our whole lives to find the love we deserve, I would hope that we’d get more than, say, five years with our Prince Charmings.

I give her credit that they traveled and ate good food and went to all the cool events and totally LIVED. I think I’m sadder for myself that I never had that love (and never found anyone with the same spirit and pocketbook for adventure).

I already know what it’s like to live without it, and now it’s her new (or renewed) reality.

So, yeah.

Tonight I’ll say a prayer for Vespa guy, that he’s OK and he made it home all right. And I’ll pray for L and for healing to come sooner rather than later.

But more importantly, I’ll pray. Something I haven’t felt compelled to do for a long, long time because it’s been tiring not having them acknowledged. (Heck, I wasn’t even shooting high enough for “answered.”) But I hope tonight’s prayers will be heard loud and clear by anyone who can do anything about them.



All I ever wanted

August 4th, 2015, 8:42 PM by Goddess

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12 weeks

August 4th, 2015, 6:28 PM by Goddess

Landlord called to say banshees are out by October 1. I confirmed with the HOA that those fuckers are here till October 31. 

If they squat, or if this turns out in any way to be false or otherwise not happening, I’m gone. I mean it.

Psycho neighbors always tell security and the cops that they aren’t the ones guilty of the noise. The HOA lady said the same thing, that the letters they send to outline noncompliance with the lease get returned with “not us.”

Mom asks how they stop screaming long enough to answer. 

I have videos I’ve taken from outside their door. With the unit number and the pussy husband whining how horse face doesn’t love him and “this is bullshit.”

Speaking of bullshit …

12 more weeks of no sleep, tattered nerves, a cat on Prozac and a mom who takes strokes (literally the TIA type) because of the noise. Yay.