This week is really no different. It started out with the movie popcorn...which I left overnight in my sweet ride. Opening the door on that fine September morning I realized day old popcorn smells like wet cardboard soaked in skunk piss and was not likely something I'd be consuming later. Who the hell takes a doggie bag of popcorn home? Yeah...me...and oh yeah, in a desperate attempt to get salt into my system, I did indeed eat said popcorn later during a dark and lonely night while watching netflix. I WAS DESPERATE, OK???????
Stinky popcorn, really...no big deal, however, the fact that I have water trays in my freezer is turning out to be a HUGE deal. Water trays? What's that, you say? Well that's what mother effing ice trays turn into inside a brand new (used-new to me) freezer. My favorite part...god, I love this...is when the ice bucket completely thaws and then re-freezes into one HUGE SOLID CHUNK OF ICE. That shit don't fit in your water bottle real nice, no it don't, honey. Did I mention I stole $500 from my ex husband to buy this stellar piece of shit refrigerator? Did I mention that? Because, if I didn't, well now I am. No, I'm not a thief...well, not a thief ON PURPOSE...but when your old joint account checkbook (lavendar, hee hee) looks IDENTICAL to your "I'm-divorced-now-and-this-checking-account-contains-all-my-money-and-not-yours-ya-rat-bastard" checkbook, well, let's just say that a girl shouldn't be judged too harshly when she grabs the wrong one to frantically pay Alberto the fridge guy. Don't you judge me!
As if a stinky car, a broken fridge and stolen money weren't enough to bitch about...I got a ticket in the mail the other day. This is significant because I gave up one of my favorite past times a few months ago. Speeding. Ohhhh, how I looooved to speed, here and there and everywhere. It wasn't until I had gotten pulled over about six times in one month that I realized I had a problem. A problem worthy of SA-Speeder's Anonymous. I was so lucky that each time I got pulled over, I knew the cop! And this was great for me, ya know, because I didn't have to flash mah boobs or nothin! Because, really, at 36, the old boobies aren't what they used to be. Shoot, the way they lookin' now, I wouldn't be surprised if the cop didn't double the fine.
Anyway, back on track...the ticket was for running a red light...one of those rude-ass red light cameras that takes the WORST picture as you're running the stop light. Did I really look that bad driving? Do I always look so damn ugly in the car? Shoot, that's probably why nobody ever lets me merge! This is crap, seriously...there's no reason I should look THAT shitty while driving. Should be a crime! Haha! Wait, maybe it is! The sad part, is that I've been practicing being a good driver since the self intervention, I really have. I go the speed limit, I don't pass EVERY-FREAKING-BODY...I drive like...my DAD. What's even sadder, is that I have no memory of running a red light. And THAT, my friends, is the very definition of a bad driver. When you run the stop lights so frequently that it doesn't even occur to you anymore that it's the wrong thing to do. Slap my label on, folks. I suck at driving. And have the ticket to prove it.
...And the drama continues...over the past few months it's become clear that the neighbors of my cul-de-sac are no fans of mine. You see, I have the pleasure of being the single mom of the 'hood and folks don't take too kindly to that 'round these parts. I had gotten the impression that I wasn't welcome pretty much right away...the first day I mowed my lawn and apparently it was a spectator event. As I looked around the houses I noticed that after a few minutes of mowing, 5 of the 7 houses had their occupants firmly planted outside looking on at the anomaly that was occurring in their very own neighborhood. A WOMAN was cutting the grass. A WOMAN? Gasp! It cannot be, but it was. I, Ginger (last name here), was indeed breaking allll the rules and revving that engine all by my little old self.
And ya know...if it had stopped there, I wouldn't have minded so much...but one week, Ms. Single Mom over here got about 25 hours worth of overtime dumped into her lap and, well, as I am a good little worker bee, I went off to work in the wee hours of the night and did not return again until the sun was beating down on my tired face the next day all seven days of the week. Exhausted was an understatement. I should have known something was up when I saw my next door neighbor...we'll call her "I-don't-work-because-my-husband-does-that-for-me," or IDWBMHDTFM, for short, outside as I was leaving for work one evening. I was wearing my ugly ass work issued polo along with my work ID when she asked in her scrunched up "I'm totally judging you right now" face, "what do you dooooooo???" I replied with a big smile, "I'm a 9-1-1 dispatcher, ma'am." She turned on her heel and started back into her house, calling over her shoulder, "well, THAT must be very interesting!" Well shit yeah it is! Fuckin' A right, lady! Mystifying exchange, it was, but I had no time to dwell on it, until the next day when I was desperately begging the sleep Gods for a small blessing, just a few hours of that delightful unconsciousness I so badly needed.
The phone rang. The fucking phone ALWAYS rings when you work nights. It was the property management company. Yay! It's always good news when THEY call! NOT! I was politely informed that I had not cut the grass that week. Oh, and there's a brown spot you single mom whore, did ya notice that? Did ya? The neeeiiiigbors are complaining! Something must be done, NOW!!!! As my foggy brain tried to process this information, all I could think was, wahhhh, I JUST fell asleep. You ASSHOLE! But, being threatened with all things scary, such as fines, eviction and neighborhood ostracization, I did what any sensible tenant would do. I fucking got up. I put some fucking clothes on. I opened the fucking garage. And I mowed the fucking grass. I also said the f word to myself as I did it. And because I know the people on my special little circle like me so much, I danced to the tune of my iPod. Yes. I did. And it was RAPPPPPPP music. Oh Heavens no! And ya know what else I did? I watered the shit out of the brown spot. For three days in a row. I'm actually pretty proud of that...raised my water bill by a good 20 bucks, yes I did!
Oh how the property management company loved that. They loved it so much, they even gave me a note on my door with a sweet little smiley face that said, "Thanks! Good job!" Awww...I feel so accomplished now. I did a good job...this week. Over the next week to two weeks, work wreaked havoc on my life again. The grass...well you know where this is going, don't you? Sadly, the grass grew again. I KNOW! I couldn't believe it myself. Fucking traitor ass grass! If you guessed that I got another phone call from the yard police with some more nasty threats...well ding ding ding, you guessed right. And the process repeated itself. Drag tired ass out of bed...cut stupid piece of shit asshole grass...make scrowly face while doing it...all this occurred. It was epic. Neighbors placated. Property management company issues smiley face #2, blah blah blah.
After too many weeks from hell at work, life gets a little more normal. Grass cutting 101 commences. Weekly grass cutting. No bitching from neighbors. Life is good. Until I got the notice. The city...gosh that sounds scary...anyway, the city says that the big ass dead tree in my yard MUST come down because there have been complaints from surrounding neighbors. Hmmm...IDWBMHDTFM must have made a phone call to the CITY. So...my grass is green and purty now we have to complain about the tree. Nice. The owners hired some dudes to chop the tree down, that mo fo was big. Like supa fly big, y'all. They must have been thirsty tree choppers, because when I came home, I found empty water bottles littered all over my yard. What a nice bunch of assholes they must have been. Ya wanna know what else I found in my yard? A giant huge ass bigger than yo mama big fucking pile of wood chips. See picture that follows...
Yeah...it's been there almost a week. It's killing the green grass I so lovingly watered the shit out of. The property management folks don't know whennnnnn they are going to remove the wood chips, but they better fucking do it soon because I don't know about you, but I'm a little afraid of IDWBMHDTFM...I'm sure she's already been on the phone whining about Mount tree-sa over there. (That was a play on words there, did ya get it? Like the leaning tower of Pisa? Except with Mount and tree? Haha)
Sweet Revenge
I am not a vengeful person...if you don't believe me, please see previous posts, re: divorce, where I did not, in fact, sugar anyone's gas tank, key any cars, or burn down any houses. However, when I woke up one morning to find my tire flattened to hell and gone, I could never have guessed what sweet revenge the universe would bestow upon me. Ahhh, I like to smile now as I look back on the lovely scene that played itself out right in front of my very eyes. Do you remember IDWBMHDTFM? Do you remember her? She doesn't like me. I know this. I have accepted it. Anyway, there I was, minding my own business, waiting for my friend to rescue me from the misery that is a flat tire, when IDWBMHDTFM's HUSBAND crossed over to my side of the driveway and said, "Excuse me, I notice you have a flat tire, would you like some help?" I nearly passed out but had the wits about me to gladly accept his kind offer. I did what any smart woman would do in a situation such as this. I offered to help fix my own tire, to hand over a tool or two, but the man helping would have none of it, because he was saving the day. It's some primal thing, I don't really get it and I genuinely do feel guilty when people help me...but nothing made me smile bigger than when IDWBMHDTFM came outside and saw her husband changing MY tire. I think the sun shone a little brighter on me that day, and I have to be honest, I really had a hard time not rubbing it in. I may have winked a little when I thanked her for letting me borrow her husband. I couldn't help it...it was just so...magical. I really shouldn't be so gleeful about such a thing, but I was downright giddy. And of course, appropriately thankful. I know I will pay for this with some other complaint...but for now I will relish in that moment.
I'll have to wrap this up because I fear my tales of woe will begin to be unbelievable. Such as the $1,000 bill I just got for the ONE college class I'm taking through my job that is supposed to be FREE, or the fact that I've been accidentally paying 40 extra dollars a month for rent...or that my rent is being raised by 45 dollars if I renew my lease. They have me by the balls. Surely insomnia is believable. I haven't slept more than 2 hours a night for 5 days. I push my head as hard as I can into the pillow, hoping that will do the trick, but sadly, I am just tired and have a sore neck.
I'm going to take my sorry ass off to bed, where I will dream of chocolate frosted donuts, cool weather and more smiley faces. After all, winter will be here soon and I'm sure I'll get a good job sticker if I shovel my snow. I can just FEEL it!
