Home > Uncategorized > I Have to Move…

I Have to Move…

It’s been a while since I’ve moved.  When I picked my current domicile it was out of necessity.  My roommate at the time had decided that he wanted to move to NYC, like ya do, and I had about a month to find a new place and move into it.  In the interest of full disclosure, I fucking HATE moving.  However, at the time, moving was a damn sight better than living in my previous apartment since my landlady was a senile old biddy from Canyon Lakes CA, about an hour drive away from the building she owned.  It was impossible to get her to do anything with the apartment other than take my rent check and she was a truly despicable person.  But this isn’t about her.  It’s about my current situation.

About a year after moving in to my new apartment, I had made the acquaintance of all my neighbors and found them to be nice, if not a bit on the wacky side themselves.  It’s a 6 unit building, not too big and not too small and it’s in a pretty decent neighborhood.  I thought I had found my home.  Then I started to get to know them.  My fellow tenants are good people, just… different.  For example my next door neighbor has 4 very loud parrots, 2 reptiles, a gecko or something, and two retarded Chihuahuas.  I think there’s a spider of some sort in there as well but the less I know about that little sucker, the better.  And he’s not the worst of it!  Another one of my fellow tenants (let’s call her Lindsay) is apparently an animal rights activist.  She’s pretty high up in this militant off shoot of PETA and keeps a couple of cats and squirrels in her apartment… squirrels.  That’s a fact.  She keeps them in her kitchen and puts bath mats under their cages to collect their waste and proceeds to wash these putrid things in our shared laundry facilities, which I thankfully have put a stop to.  She loves her plants like she loves her animals and god help you if she sees you ashing a cigarette near her beloved begonias, but I digress.  One time a few years ago I was awakened by a loud banging on the walls of the apartment so I opened my front door to investigate.  I was met by a half dozen police bashing Lindsay’s door down with a battering ram and hauling her off to jail in the wee hours of the morning for allegedly picketing some UCLA professor’s home at 4am and trespassing.  She was in the clink for about 6 months and she’s 64 years old.  Heavy shit.  And she STILL isn’t the worst.

The worst part of my living situation is a heartless shrew we’ll call Beverly.  Beverly hates noise.  More sympathetic, I could not be, but her version of noise is apparently heavy breathing of footsteps outside her window.  Beverly lives in a house next door to my apartment building and finds any reason she can to come over to our place to complain.  In the short amount of time I’ve lived at my current place, she’s called the cops on every single tenant in my building at some point or another for noise.  So much in fact that the cops basically know when they come to my address it’s probably for nothing.  Here are a couple of the passive aggressive notes she’s left on my mailbox.

Great use of colons in that last one.  Beverly has two little yipping dogs that constantly bark and carry on and she walks them without leashes and has the audacity to complain that other people don’t have their dogs on leashes when her dogs are scared by strange animals.  She also has landscapers come at 7am every Tuesday morning that use gas powered leaf blowers and have successfully re-synced my internal alarm clock that now i can’t sleep past 7 on a Tuesday if I tried.  I’ve learned to ignore her and when she DOES come over to complain to me, which still happens at least 3 times a year, I’ve learned to stand up from my couch and smile while I slam the door in her face.  Makes me feel better and I avoid confrontation, which is really the only thing I want.  She’s really a horrible person but for some reason her and Lindsay have always been friends.  Until last week that is.

I was minding my own business, sitting on my couch watching por… er, the History Channel, when I heard some jingling outside my front door.  When I looked over I saw the two hell spawn dogs belonging to Beverly standing outside my door.  As soon as I make eye contact, of course they begin barking mercilessly and I go outside because I’m 100% sure Beverly is skulking around out there somewhere, probably looking in the windows of the girls who live downstairs who were having a party this night.  I look over my decks and see her in my bushes moving plants around.  She quickly apologizes for the dogs barking and I tell her it’s OK… Just put them inside where they won’t bark.  Then I found out what she was doing.  Shortly after she left, Lindsay starts yelling outside.  Here’s what I could gather.

Earlier that day Beverly had told Lindsay she wanted to move a couple of Lindsay’s plants off her property line because she thought that rats were climbing up the plants to get into the trees and go onto her roof.  Lindsay, remarked how ridiculous this was as the plants were about a foot tall and if a damn rat wants to climb a tree… there’s no way her plants were going to assist or stop them.

Lindsay comes home to find the plants were moved a few minutes later and LOOSES HER SHIT!  She starts screaming “Beverly you fucking whore!  You alcoholic slut!  How DARE  you touch my babies!”  Beverly, not to be outdone, comes outside and starts telling Lindsay that not only do the rats climb up her plants but they’re obviously attracted by the peanuts that Lindsay leaves in a big bowl outside the bottom of our steps for the squirrels to eat.  I’ll let that one sit for a second… Lindsay feeds squirrels peanuts in a bowl.  She’s been told by our landlord not to do that, since at one time she had the bowl on our shared patio and not only did it attract squirrels, it attracted all sorts of woodland creatures which would in turn, turn our shared patio into a varmint toilet.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to step over animal blood, shit and vomit walking into my front door.  But I’m getting off topic.

At this point Beverly kicks over Lindsay’s peanut bowl.  Lindsay doesn’t like this one bit.  “Those peanuts cost me $12 you fucking whore! You owe me $12!”  Beverly tells Lindsay not to yell at her since she’s on probation and threatened to call the cops on her.  Lindsay decides SHE’S going to be the one to call the cops.  For what, I have no idea.  I’d love to hear that conversation with the police.  “Beverly is being handsy with my plants and has kicked over my squirrellies food dish and is being hateful.”  Lindsay is continues her tirade and tells Beverly to get out of her face before she does something she’ll regret.  They exchange hateful commentary and Beverly decides it best to just walk away.  Lindsay comes up to my apartment, which I foolishly left my door open throughout this whole ordeal, and asks me to help her move her plants somewhere off “that slut’s property”.  I oblige under one condition, that we keep it down and not start any more trouble tonight. She agrees and we start to move the plants.  We’re no more that 2 seconds into picking up this fucking fern when Lindsay goes straight to Beverly’s window and screams “GOD FORBID THE CRACK WHORE ALCOHOLIC SLUT BEVERLY, MISERABLE SHREW THAT SHE IS, GET’S RATS CLIMBING UP HER TREE FROM MY FUCKING BABY PLANT” and starts regaling me with how stupid this theory is.  The verbal assault continued as we moved the first plant and as soon as I set it down in my front yard, I see Beverly coming out of her house again to yell at Lindsay.  She gets in her face and threatens to call our landlord, the cops and get Lindsay arrested for assault and for the most part Beverly has been fairly calm in this situation but it’s only because she knows Lindsay has nothing on her.  She clearly has the upper hand and is trying to get Lindsay to hit her.  Which she eventually attempts and I have to physically separate these two middle aged maniacs.  Lindsay tells Beverly that since her plants can be on her property, she doesn’t want Beverly on OUR property at all.  Beverly takes this opportunity to tell Lindsay that the property isn’t hers and she’s merely a tenant and she can’t tell Beverly where she can and can’t go.

They continue yelling at each other until eventually just about every tenant in our general vicinity is outside telling Beverly to just go inside and let it go.  Beverly asks Lindsay why she hasn’t called the cops yet, clearly just being a bitch and Lindsay goes screaming into her apartment and slams the door.  I finally diffused the situation by telling Beverly that the only reason she’s out there was to egg Lindsay on and if she had just stayed inside the situation would have blow over and none of this mess would have happened.  After about 3 minutes of carefully explaining the whole “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” theory, Beverly agreed to go inside and let it go for the night but at this point my night was already in the crapper.  I’ve always been at odds with both of these ladies at various points, but both at the same time was more than Mother Teresa could have handled.  I’m pretty sure Gandhi would have smacked these bitches.  The only bright side to this whole thing is I can now engage in guerrilla warfare on Beverly’s fountain and yard and she’ll never know who it was.  As comical as the whole situation was, I don’t think my sanity can handle this much rage outside of work.  There should be a website that logs problems with apartment buildings and landlords.  That being said, does anyone have a westside properties password they will share with me?

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Categories: Uncategorized
  1. Joe R. Thornbury
    July 19, 2012 at 7:50 pm

    ABout dern time you posted another blog! Do it again… I dare you!

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