Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Flintstones, Meet the Flintstones! They're a Yabba Dabba Family ........

Finally buying my own home got me thinking about apartment-building neighbors I have had. Several years ago, the person who owned the apartment building I lived in at the time at the time filed for bankruptcy, and the bankruptcy court appointed a lawyer to oversee the building. He was under instructions to keep the apartments filled, no matter what, and you can imagine what happened from there. Welfare city, baby.

I already wrote about Kelly. And there was the guy next door who broke into my apartment so he could use my phone to call phone sex lines, and threatened to kill me when I called the police. And then there was the couple downstairs, whom my boyfriend-at-the-time and I used to call Fred and Wilma, because they were so stupid, they were practically prehistoric. There was no love lost between Fred and Wilma and my boyfriend and I. One time I was looking out my (second floor) living room window. Wilma was downstairs in the driveway, saw me looking out, and actually spat upward at me. With predicable results (Me dry, Wilma wet). I still laugh when I think about that.

I wrote extensively about Jabba the Hutt, who was my impetus for finally getting off my keister and looking for a house. And then there was my last neighbor, the Pakistani terrorist. When he first moved in, I was just grateful to finally have a quiet neighbor. But then I noticed that he never left his apartment, like, EVER. He supposedly worked for a local IBM spin-off, but he'd be home when I'd leave for work in the morning, he'd be home when I got back from work, and his car never left the driveway. If he went out on the weekend, it'd only be for, like, fifteen minutes, and then he was back again. And he was really quiet, except for when people came to visit him, like, every few months, and then they'd all be up all night long, talking away in Pakistani. And he'd hoot. I shit you not, I'd be sitting reading a book, and all of a sudden I'd hear, "hooooot! HOOOOOOT!" coming from his apartment. It was the damnedest thing.

Oh, and the Pakistani DID NOT LIKE the lamp-stealer downstairs, because he thought the guy was a "thug" who "intimidated" him. The last I knew, the Pakistani was house-hunting, so he might not even be there anymore.

My gosh, these are just my apartment-building neighbors from the last apartment I lived in. I haven't even touched on the OTHER apartment buildings I've lived in, not to mention the trailer park. Stories for another day .....

1 comment:

Rob said...

I knew there was an hidden motive for us buying a house. Thanks for helping me dredge up some truly unpleasant memories.