My Neighbor is Crazy!!!

Seriously, dude. Get over yourself.

So, since Prince Charmin decided to ruin my 11 year anniversary plans with my hubby by sending stupid emails about adding an automatic shut spring to our front gate (because some people are too fucking lazy to shut it themselves and God forbid his precious toilet paper get stolen again! More on why I’m so pissed about this later…) I have decided that I no longer want to receive email messages from him.  Or anyone else in the condo association.  So, I did what any sane person wanting to preserve their sanity would do -I deleted and blocked all of their email addresses so I no longer have to be subjected to their bullshit.  Hubby still gets the emails and we have made a deal that he will only inform me of something that was sent if it is important and affects us directly.  Otherwise, he will not.  Which has been working out great.  I am much less stressed because I no longer worry about what has Prince’s panties in a twist each day. 

So…..fast forward to Monday of this week.  I opened my door to find a file folder on the floor with a note asking hubby and I to sign what was inside.  I picked it up and put it on the hallway table, without opening it, for a day and a half.  Then I looked inside.  There was a single sheet of paper.  A sheet of paper that appeared to be the last page of an amendment, with lines for signatures of all residents of the building.  However, there was no indication on said sheet of paper that indicated what it was supposed to be attached to.  Are you fucking kidding me?  Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to sign that????  Clearly the answer is yes, since Prince, Bubble Wrap Boy, and the dumbass who leaves her keys in her front door and can’t remember to shut the door or gate had already signed it.  So, I wrote a note explaining that it was the equivalent of asking me to sign a blank check and that there was no way in hell that I was going to sign anything that did not clearly indicate what it was I was signing, and left it at his doorstep.  

The next day the file folder was again at my doorstep.  I grabbed it, stuck it in my bag and didn’t look at it for many hours, until I was mentally ready to deal with whatever might be inside.  I was NOT ready for what I saw.  Not only was the single sheet of paper, which I had written “What are you asking me to sign?” and “This is vague and can be attached to any amendment”, complete with the 3 signatures inside the folder,  but paper-clipped to it was the rest of what I can only assume is the proposed amendment.  Um, did you not get my message, dickhead?  The POINT was that I’m not going to sign a signature page that doesn’t clearly indicate what it is that is being amended. 

So…I typed out a response, stating that “Perhaps my first note was not clear”, and tried to emphasize my points with the use of capital letters in the appropriate places, to avoid any future misunderstandings.  I also discarded his original signature page, and told him that I would gladly sign the amendment once the signature page included every single article and section (there were several) that was being amended. And I returned it to him again.  I also asked him for the receipt from the post office of the certified letter that was supposedly sent to our mortgage company, since the amendment stated that each mortgage company was notified of the amendment by certified mail and I didn’t recall anyone ever asking me for the name and address of my mortgage company. 

Yesterday hubby asked me if I had ever threatened Prince with legal action, because apparently he went ballistic in an email to the condo association stating that the use of capital letters can be perceived as threatening, blah blah blah (that’s seriously what I hear in my head when he sends an email). I haven’t read the email but knowing Prince like I do, I can readily imagine exactly what it said.  For the record, I DID tell him previously that his hair-brained idea of using a video camera to catch his toilet paper thief is an invasion of privacy for the residents of the building and that I would not consent to have my comings and goings being videotaped and did consult an attorney regarding my rights (that’s another post for another day). 

Apparently I’ve touched a nerve with the queen.  And he went off.  And I’m laughing my ass off.  Because he is just proving to everyone in the building that he is unstable and I’m sure they’re all scratching their heads and thinking “What the fuck is this dude’s problem?”  LOL  No one has responded to him.  It’s quite funny.  He’s just ranting away like a lunatic.

I told hubby yesterday that I think it would be hilarious if my sarcastic, passive-aggressiveness caused him to sell his place just to get the hell away from me.  LMAO  I’m making it my personal goal to annoy the living shit out of him in the hopes he will go away!  

Remember, I told you I was a bitch.  ;-)

“The Bloke and The Trixie”

This post will ultimately be a segue into one about Ghetto Fabulous and her Posse.  You’ll understand why soon enough, so pay attention. The Bloke and The Trixie were comprised of an Irish women’s tennis coach and his Lincoln Park Trixie wife (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trixie_(slang)).  I have to admit, I enjoyed the Bloke’s accent, but everything else about him and Trixie annoyed the living shit out of me.  They purchased the duplex unit below ours 2 years after the renovation (the building was a gut rehab).  The original owners of that unit were awesome and we loved them. They also made a killing when they sold their place ($110K to be exact).  I guess Bloke and Trixie thought that they’d be able to do the same, because 2 years later, in 2007,  they put the place on the market again and stated they were moving to Oklahoma because Bloke decided to take a job there.  Did I mention that he’s a women’s tennis coach?  And he had been working at Northwestern University.  He didn’t get fired.  He CHOSE to move to Oklahoma.  Well, if you remember, 2007 was the year that the housing market started to crash.  The place didn’t sell.  They were paying 2 mortgages.  They had no interested buyers. They never mentioned the possibility of renting out the unit and never bothered to discuss it with the rest of us beforehand.   So, of course we were all flabbergasted to receive this email in January 30, 2009:

Another Bubble Wrap Boy story

We have a 3 car garage and a 2 spot parking pad.  Hubby and I share the garage with Prince and Boy and the owners of the duplex unit.  For a while, Hubby and I were the only folks in the building and therefore the only car parked in the garage.  Because we were the only ones there we were also the only ones taking care of the building, yardwork, snow shoveling, etc.  So we kept all of these yard implements in the garage.  Because that’s what normal people do, right?  They keep those things in the garage or a shed, right?  Well, we don’t have a shed.  But we do have a garage.  So, in they went.  Out of the way, of course, of where one would park a car if there were other cars to be parked.  One of the yard implements that we kept in the garage was a rake.  We kept it leaned up against the back wall of the garage, not out in the open or anything, because although I am a bitch, I’m not THAT mean to purposely try to hurt anyone.  

Apparently Bubble Wrap Boy’s vision is not so great.  Either that or he failed to turn the light on.  I’m not sure.  But, one day last summer,  after Prince and Boy moved in, they were going to their car, which of course, is parked in the garage and Bubble Wrap Boy stepped on the rake!  I didn’t see it happen, which is probably a good thing because I’m sure my hysterical fit of laughter would have been seen as incredibly insensitive.  But, I imagine that it looked very similar to the picture above.

I did, however, see Boy AFTER the fact, with a huge welt on his forehead!  I’m pretty sure I said something to the effect of “I see you’ve met the rake” and smiled politely.  Then went upstairs and laughed like a hyena.

“Bubble Wrap Boy”

This is the story of  how Bubble Wrap Boy got his name.  No, that’s not actually him.  But, he does look pretty similar.  Small in stature.  When Prince and Boy were moving into the building, after a 2 foot snowfall and subsequent deep freeze, Hubby and I were lucky enough to be sitting on the beach in Maui, oblivious to anything going on at home.  Our friend Ron had agreed to come over to feed our cats, who will hereby be known as Bitchy and Whiny, because that’s what they sound like when they are waiting to be fed.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Bitchy and Whiny to pieces, but they are annoying little shits when I have the can of cat food out.  It’s like they think I’m going to forget to feed them somewhere in between opening the can, putting the food on the plates and putting them on the floor.  So far, I’ve never forgotten and just walked out of the room, mid feeding, so I think they’re safe.

Did I mention that I have a bit of ADD and tend to go off tangents?  I just did.  Get used to it.  

Let’s get back to Bubble Wrap Boy’s story.  So, it’s freezing, Prince and Boy are moving in.  Who the hell moves in the dead of winter?  Anyway, apparently Prince was at school because I guess apparently he DOES leave the house on occasion.  Why he doesn’t buy toilet paper while he’s out is beyond me.  But, again, I digress.  So, Ron comes over to the building to take care of Bitchy and Whiny and when he rounds the top of the stairs he is greeted by a sight that, had I not been soaking up the sun in Maui, I would have KILLED to see!  At the top of the stairs, sitting amongst boxes, was Bubble Wrap Boy, encased in bubble wrap.  Apparently, he had somehow managed to lock himself out, without his phone (and keys obviously) and was freezing.  He was not going to be able to get back in until Prince came home, which was several hours.  So, to stay warm he opened the boxes and used the bubble wrap as a blanket.  I am not lying.  I can NOT make this shit up.  I say that a lot.  Because it’s true, and sometimes I am just amazed at the acts of stupidity in this world.  It makes me wonder how anything ever gets done.  I am convinced that 90% of the population is dumber than a rock and it’s the 10% of us who actually run things.  Maybe I’m being too optimistic, though.

Anyway….after Ron got over his fit of laughter, he offers Boy his phone to call Prince, which was a lot nicer than anything I would have done.  I would have pointed my finger at him and given him my best “HA HA!” 

“Prince Charmin”

No, the “G” is not missing.  You are reading that correctly.  It says Prince Charmin, like the toilet paper.  This nickname comes to me courtesy of my friend Tom.  Thank you, Tom.  Although this particular neighbor is more of a queen than a prince, if ya know what I mean.

About a year ago, Prince Charmin and his boyfriend Bubble Wrap Boy, moved into the building.  This saddened us, as it meant that the only other original owners of the building, whom we had developed a friendship with (ok, hubby developed a friendship with HIM, I think SHE hated us, but whatever) had moved out.  

It has been a living hell ever since these 2 queens moved in.  Seriously.  There is a lot of back story to this, which I will get to in another post. This post, however, is the story of how Prince Charmin got his name.  Bubble Wrap Boy’s story will come later, don’t you worry.

Prince Charmin is in a doctoral program for psychology.  This will cause many an eyebrow to raise later if you keep reading.  He is ABD (all but dissertation), which means that presumably all of his time should be devoted to working on said dissertation.  Instead, Prince Charmin focuses his time and energy on everything BUT his impending dissertation.  This includes online shopping.  This queen has multiple packages delivered to our building every day.  Annoyingly so, I tell you.  Apparently, even though he owns a car and can physically drive to the store, he prefers to sit at his computer all day and order random shit.  Which then results in my front lawn being littered with boxes.  It’s really fun when it rains.  Because he *thinks* that all of his neighbors are nice and will bring the packages inside, and even up to his 2nd floor door.  You’ve probably already guessed that I don’t do that.  Nope.  I walk right by them, in the pouring rain, with a smirk on my face.  What’s worse is that when he is expecting packages and for some reason won’t be home, he leaves a hand-written note on his mailbox, which is on the outside of our wrought-iron fence that says “UPS - please throw packages over the fence”.  

Ok, this is going to segue into another story about Prince Charmin that I’m not ready to tell yet, so I’ll get my train of thought back on track…

About a month ago, myself and the other owners of the building received this gem of an email.  

“Hi Neighbors,

Bubble Wrap Boy and I received a large box of Charmin today. Bubble Wrap Boy saw the package
down there and told me about it when I arrived home, but the box was
gone when I went downstairs to bring it up. Did anyone bring this
package in for us?

Thanks,

Prince Charmin”

Now, besides making me laugh hysterically, this begged 2 questions for me: 

1)  If Bubble Wrap Boy saw the box of Charmin outside, why did he not bring it upstairs?  Granted, he weighs about 98 pounds, but it’s TOILET PAPER for God’s sake, not a fucking TV.  

2)  WHO THE FUCK ORDERS TOILET PAPER ONLINE TO BE DELIVERED??????

I mean, it’s…..TOILET PAPER!!!!  There’s a Walgreens 2 blocks away.  You can walk there.  Why in the hell would you order it online?  It baffled my mind.  As much as I wanted to respond “Sorry dude, I had burritos last night”, I didn’t.  No one else in the building did either.  I assume they were also too busy laughing their asses off.  

But, that’s not all folks.  Oh no.  Not by a long shot.  Just last week, myself and the neighbors received THIS email:

“Hi Neighbors,

It appears that someone has taken interest in my shipments of toilet
paper. I have had a second delivery that was left out front but was
not there when I arrived home in the evening. Thankfully, Amazon has a
great customer service team and sent out a replacement promptly, but
I’m sure they will grown wary of this if it continues.Please make sure
that you are fully closing the gate when you leave. Also, please be
aware that our packages are not very secure when they are left out
front.

Best Wishes,

Prince Charmin”

I seriously cannot make this shit up, people.  I was laughing so hard at this point that I couldn’t help myself and felt compelled to respond.  Of course, I had to make sure that I did it in a manner that was perceived as sincere, even though I was being completely sarcastic.  

I had been thinking for some time that perhaps Prince and Boy should get a P.O. box because I really hate having to wade through Amazon boxes while walking up to my front door.  Also, hubby and I are very aware of the crime element in our neighborhood and therefore have all of our packages that don’t require signatures delivered to our work addresses.  Because that’s what normal people do, right?  Please tell me if I’m wrong. 

What follows is a series of emails, because Prince is unable to let ANYONE have the last word. This is where my passive-aggressiveness, that I spoke about in my first post, comes into play.  It is impossible to end an email conversation with this queen because no matter what I say, he will simply not let it go!!!!   I get a huge kick of riling him up and fucking with him all day long, because I just know he is sitting at his keyboard watching and waiting for my response.  Sometimes I throw in curveballs just to fuck with him.  It’s fun.  Enjoy!

Me: Just a thought, but perhaps buying the toilet paper at the store instead of having it delivered would be a better option, since this has happened twice with the same type of package.

 Prince:Thanks for the tip, but we would rather not pay inflated retail prices and add to our environmental impact. People shouldn’t be taking things that don’t belong to them anyway. Amazon has stepped up the the plate so far, so we’ll just see how things go from here.

Me:I agree that people shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to them, but as you know, there is a lot of crime activity in this neighborhood, especially theft.  We have had our fair share of things stolen.  Husband’s Jeep was broken into on the street and all of his tools were stolen out of the garagewhen it was left open one day.  Unfortunately, that’s a chance you have to take when you have packages delivered to an unattended address, and that’s the very reason that Husband and I have the majority of our packages delivered to our work addresses.  Perhaps that would be an option for you and Bubble Wrap Boy as well?

BTW, that point about Husband’s tools getting stolen was my passive aggressive way of telling Prince that his “accidentally” leaving the garage door open when he ran to the airport “real quick” is not acceptable.  There’s a story about that later.  (It’s true that the tools were stolen)

 Prince:  I don’t want to add my personal shipments to the workload of the staff here, and some of the shipments will be larger than what our research center is used to receiving. I have some options I can pursue if this keeps up though.

So apparently he doesn’t perceive it to be a burden to the people who also live in his building, only those he works with.  Good to know. 

Insert subliminal hint below:

Me:   Have you thought about a post office box?  The packages would be safe there and then you could pick them up when your schedule allows.

Prince: I’m not too keen on paying for a new shipping address. Most of our packages come by UPS, and they have some new scheduling options available that we can try if we keep having problems. I’ve been thinking of trying them anyway to further reduce our environmental impact.

Because the last time I checked, excessive packaging/tape and exhaust fumes from a UPS truck really help to reduce our carbon footprint and environmental impact.  You have to just imagine my exaggerated eye roll here, since I don’t have a way to show you in real life. 

It gets better, folks.  I’m telling you, he does.not.stop.  And, unfortunately for him, I like fucking with him, so neither do I.  Hee.

Me:   Out of curiousity, can you explain what you mean by reducing your environmental impact?  Thanks.

Of course, he perceived my sarcasm/mocking as actual interest.  LOL

Prince:  There have been some recent research reports that examined online shopping’s environmental impact (carbon footprint, electricity, etc.) vs. retail stores’. Overall, online shopping uses up less energy than retail shopping mostly because people don’t drive back and forth to stores and warehouses maintain lower temperatures and pack in more merchandise. Online shipping does require a delivery for each item,but UPS is making thousands of deliveries with a single truck on the road for a day. I am thinking that if I can schedule deliveries for one day a week, I can further cut down on my footprint a bit, because fewer delivery trips would be needed for my items. I don’t think it would be a major reduction, because the driver is probably in the area regardless, but a little at a time would probably add up with as many packages as we receive.

Apparently he failed to calculate the packaging into this equation.  Let’s cut down some more trees so we can put all this shit in extra boxes for assholes who are too lazy to go to the store. Yay!

But, of course, I didn’t say that.  Instead, I said this:

Me: Interesting.  Thanks for sharing. (this is code for “You’re an idiot and I’m not going to engage you in the conversation further” ) and, because I really don’t want these packages in my yard anymore

I would be worried about having numerous packages delivered at once, however, since you have already experienced theft on 2 occasions.  That seems like it would be a thief’s dream come true.  You do realize that it’s possible to open the gate from the outside if someone has a long enough arm  and can reach the handle from the inside, right?  I understand that you don’t want the added expense of a post office box, but I think it would be the safest option since you have so many deliveries, and chances are, the thieves in the area are probably aware of this.  Just something to think about.  

I can tell I’m starting to piss him off at this point (and I like it)  and he knows I’m right but doesn’t want to admit it, so he ignores any valid points I make, when I get this. 

Prince: I fully realize the risks and benefits of the postage box and scheduling options. I have already weighed those options and feel that the postage box is not in our best interest. On another note, this is an atypical pattern of neighborhood package theft. Thieves usually only go for easy targets, especially during daytime hours. Reaching over or climbing a fence for packages containing unknown contents would be very unusual. They have been stuck with toilet paper twice and a small present once, which would usually discourage thieves. Something is a little odd with this. If people want to keep stealing regularly like this eventually they will be caught and prosecuted for a federal crime.

Did I mention that Prince spent some time in prison?  I don’t think I did.  Well, he did.  He told me so.  Not sure what his crime was, but it was a felony.  So, of course, he would know what thieves usually go for, right?  

I’m also starting to realize, at this point, that he thinks it’s an “inside” job, meaning one of us, and most likely me, since I’m such a bitch.  And obviously need 30 rolls of toilet paper that I’m too lazy to go buy myself at the store.  I had had enough of it at this point and decided to be blunt. 

Me: There’s no need to get defensive. I was only trying to help by offering possible solutions. It’s clear that you have decided to continue having the packages delivered to the building and thrown over the fence, thereby increasing the risk of theft.

I do, however, think you are being a bit unrealistic in thinking that the thieves will be caught and charged. This is Chicago and quite honestly the cops don’t really care that your toilet paper was stolen and are not going to go searching for the thief. We’ve never heard word one from the cops for the crimes that we have reported.

At any rate, I wish you luck with whatever you decide to do. Perhaps we can discuss a Costco membership at the meeting next weekend.

What you need to understand is that Prince will never allow anyone to have the last word.  Ever.  As long as I keep responding to the emails, he will too.  Even when I send an email that is clearly stating “I’m done with this conversation” (i.e. the one above ^) he responds.  It never fucking ends.  it’s infuriating.  And since I have other things to do with my life than deal with this asshole all day long, I finally get to the point where I just let his last email sit, when I know he’s sitting in front of his laptop just waiting for my response.  It makes me smile to imagine him sitting there staring at his screen wondering what the hell I’m going to say.  

Example:

Prince:  No defensiveness here. I’m not really stressing about this. I have a Costco membership, but Amazon is cheaper for some items if you buy them at the right time and is better for the environment. I just think that your solution of a postal box is unwise, because it is expensive and inconvenient. Given the rate at which my packages have been stolen, it would be cheaper just to let them be stolen-even if Amazon had not refunded the purchases. I have no intention of letting this theft continue though. I realize that you are concerned about making sure that we make a good decision about this, bit there are more efficient ways of handling this. Thanks for your concern, but I’ll take it from here.

I could have said so much here, but I left him wondering what that would be. 

This is just one example.  You will see many others if you follow me.  He is fucking nuts. 

Introduction

I admit it.  I’m a passive aggressive bitch.  Because it’s fun.  And because I suck at confrontation.  I’ve been told by people that I look intimidating, which is funny, since I’m about 5’4 and 130 pounds.  Of course, it could be because I am heavily tattooed and I scowl a lot.   Yea, that’s probably it.

I don’t really care if people like me or hate me.  I’m not here to impress anybody but myself.  But…if you take the time to get to know me, really know me, you will find out that I am one of the nicest people you will ever meet.  Until you piss me off.

Then it’s all over.  I am a raging bitch who will eat your face if you piss me off.  I also have zero tolerance for stupidity,  lack of common courtesy, and asshole drivers.  Which are all, coincidentally, things that piss me off on a daily basis.

This blog is a place for me to share with the world the bat shit crazy things that go on in my condo building.  Things that will make you laugh.  Things that will make you shake your head in disbelief.  Things that will make you want to figure out a way to help me get out of this underwater mortgage so that I can get away from all these crazy fucks!!!!  Ok, that last part is just me being optimistic. :-)

The back story - I have lived here for almost 9 years.  When my husband and I bought this place, back in 2003, it was intended to be our “starter home”.  We were newlyweds.  Ok, maybe we weren’t newlyweds.  We’d been married for a little over 2 years.  I think you stop being a newlywed the day after your 2nd anniversary.  But I could be wrong.  I’ve been wrong before.  Not often, but it has happened.  On one or 2 occasions.  Unless of course, you ask my husband.

I digress, but anyway…our *plan* was to live here for 3-5 years max, sell, make a profit, and move into our dream home.  Because that’s the American dream, right?  It is, isn’t it?  We thought we had this in the bag because we bought during a great time.  Property values were going up and we thought it was a no-brainer.  In fact, the folks that bought the duplex unit below ours sold their place after 2 years and scored a profit of $110K!  We thought “Hell yea!!!  Let’s give it a few more years and we could make double that!”.  Unfortunately, that window of opportunity slammed itself down on our American dream when the bottom fell out of the housing market.  

The long and the short of it is that we are stuck here, for God knows how long.  We are the only original owners left in the building, and the 4 other units all sold within the past 2 years for significantly less than what they were originally sold for. Which means we can never sell our place and expect to break even, let alone make a profit.  Unless there is a miraculous recovery in the housing market.  And even as optimistic as I am, I don’t see that happening anytime soon.  

Ok…so enough about that.  What it all boils down to, and the whole idea behind this blog, is that in the 9 years we have lived here there have been 11 different people/families who we have shared these walls with.  And there are some stories.  Oh Lord, are there some stories.  In this blog, I will share those stories with you.  They will not, however, be in sequential order, but rather, as they come to me in my memory.  

For the most part, I will not be using real names, but rather fun nicknames that I (or friends) have come up with that reflect the personalities of said parties.

Welcome and I hope you enjoy the ride!!!