"It's my birthday, and I'll work 'cuz I have to, work 'cuz I have to."
Even with planning weeks ahead and doing my best to keep my calendar free of non-personal obligations and other bogus bullshit (i.e. activities that do NOT include drinking, whoring or otherwise over-indulging)for today and tomorrow, I stll find myself staring into this monitor with a To Do list longer than Dirk Digler's claim to fame, and bunch of bitchy-assed clients that would make an all pre-menstrual Oprah studio audience look like a barrel full of fluffy stuffed animals.
I think it's absolutely un-American to have to forestall your yearly dive headlong into a vat of your favorite vodka until the weekend because of some stupid occupational obligations.
Aw, well...fuck it. (There, got my dose of Hate out of the way for today.)
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Ho-hum
I really try to avoid the mundane when posting here. Which is kinda tough, because so much of what goes on in one's life (anyone's really, just ask them) is pretty mundane. And nobody really likes to hear or read about the boring stupid shit. Nope, we want the REAL stuff. I read an editorial today that kind of summed it up well:
I understand this notion completely. Hell, I once considerd myself a reasonably capable stage director. You know- live theatre. That wonderful, once vibrant art form that entertained the nobilty and the masses equally for thousands (yes THOUSANDS) of years. That art form which has unfortunately succumbed to the banality and idiocy of Hollywood, fallen victim to the "reality" cult and been crushed under the jackboot of coroporate capitalism and mass market media...
Excuse me, but that's a story/rant for another day.
What I'm trying to say is, if I learned one thing after all those years of "formal" education and training, followed by years of coaxing life out of the written word, it's the simple fact that REAL LIFE is fucking boring. And the only way to make it interesting to anyone other than yourself, is to add a little spice, a little flavor in order to get the juices flowing. Like one of those teeny-tiny, innocent looking red peppers that comes in your Mongolian beef. You know, the one that you bite into thinking, this little bitty pepper is kinda cute, I wonder what he tastes like......
HOLYFUCKINGCHRIST,
WHATISTHISRAGINGFIREINMYMOUTH!!!!!
PUTITOUTITOUT,PUTITIOUT,PITIOUT!!!!!
You know the ones I'm talking about.
Anyway, I try to keep the dull down to a minimum. But sometimes the dull just gets a little overpowering.
So at the end of a fairly light week (45 hours) at the Ranch, I get home from an all-day training convocation last night and am pretty much wiped out, I guess. I mean, I must have been, because after sorting throught the mail and chowing down on some reasonable Italian take-out, I realize that I'm nodding off on the couch, watching bad stand-up on Comedy Central. At NINE o'clock in the evening!
OK, this is cool, I think remotely. I had that demand package I wanted to work on this weekend sitting on my desk. I'll just get up early and crank some stuff out.
So I force myself to stay up for a couple more hours and eventually get to bed early for once. I awoke to the alarm, but allowed myself an extra hour to snooze, just for weekend's sake. Then proceeded to give the domicile a good cleaning. Mind you, I did not say a thorough cleaning (it's not Spring Cleaning time quite yet), but a good one. And admittedly, it needed it.
Next, I jet up to the local merchant sector known pragmatically as The Yoke to complete some transactions, pick up a few goods and utilize some services, then I'm back to the hideout where I put the final touches on an client abstract. Not the big one which I've been putting off for the past three weeks and intended to hammer on this morning when I was nodding off last night, but at least I'm out of distractions. I have to do the demand now.
So now that I've accomplished a good deal of what I intended for the day, I'm at a bit of a loss. I just spoke with FC, and she's apparently got a nasty case of food poisoning. Been throwing up since 10:00 last night, so I guess we're not going to get together as previously planned.
OK...
I'm going to see the boys tomorrow for football and poker, so they're all either with their respective FC's, working, or already cruising temporary FC's. And I don't feel like rolling as the 3rd-, 5th- or any other odd-numbered Wheel this evening. So where does that leave me?
Well, there's always the rest of that take-out in the fridge. I could warm that up and go back to work for a few more hours-rationalizing that I'm "preparing" myself for The Canons with all of this extra dedication and labor. Or I could crank up the X-box for some good ol' fraggin' fun!! Maybe I could read one of these five books I've set aside or purchased in the past month. There's always the new Netflix sitting on the idiot-box...
...
...
...(Sound FX: crickets)...
Boy, I'm really fucking lame.
Finally, there's always heading on out, "Lone Wolf style", as J-Catz the barman once called it, and seeing what kind of action I can find. While I am no stranger to this particular modus operendi, lately I've found that it's often more trouble then it's really worth. But hey, maybe I'll have one of those nights that makes for interesting reading on the blog, adds a little spice to get the ol' jucies flowing again, and thus elevate my out of this mundanity.
One thing's for sure: That leftover pasta is calling my name.
"Real Life, No Police Chases," by Anna Quindlen, Newsweek, Jan. 23, 2006
"Today our national narrative follows this big dramatic arc. Gossip reporting relies on it unfailinigly. It can never be that a Hollywood couple woke up one morning, like normal people, and decided they could no longer bear to hear one another chew. It must be that he was tortured by the success of her career, that she has been rocking the trailer on location with her leading man. It cannot be that they are just like us...
Of course, the more humdrum aspects of life do not make for gripping reading. To render them compelling, a writer must describe the universal in eloquent and evocative prose."*
I understand this notion completely. Hell, I once considerd myself a reasonably capable stage director. You know- live theatre. That wonderful, once vibrant art form that entertained the nobilty and the masses equally for thousands (yes THOUSANDS) of years. That art form which has unfortunately succumbed to the banality and idiocy of Hollywood, fallen victim to the "reality" cult and been crushed under the jackboot of coroporate capitalism and mass market media...
Excuse me, but that's a story/rant for another day.
What I'm trying to say is, if I learned one thing after all those years of "formal" education and training, followed by years of coaxing life out of the written word, it's the simple fact that REAL LIFE is fucking boring. And the only way to make it interesting to anyone other than yourself, is to add a little spice, a little flavor in order to get the juices flowing. Like one of those teeny-tiny, innocent looking red peppers that comes in your Mongolian beef. You know, the one that you bite into thinking, this little bitty pepper is kinda cute, I wonder what he tastes like......
HOLYFUCKINGCHRIST,
WHATISTHISRAGINGFIREINMYMOUTH!!!!!
PUTITOUTITOUT,PUTITIOUT,PITIOUT!!!!!
You know the ones I'm talking about.
Anyway, I try to keep the dull down to a minimum. But sometimes the dull just gets a little overpowering.
So at the end of a fairly light week (45 hours) at the Ranch, I get home from an all-day training convocation last night and am pretty much wiped out, I guess. I mean, I must have been, because after sorting throught the mail and chowing down on some reasonable Italian take-out, I realize that I'm nodding off on the couch, watching bad stand-up on Comedy Central. At NINE o'clock in the evening!
OK, this is cool, I think remotely. I had that demand package I wanted to work on this weekend sitting on my desk. I'll just get up early and crank some stuff out.
So I force myself to stay up for a couple more hours and eventually get to bed early for once. I awoke to the alarm, but allowed myself an extra hour to snooze, just for weekend's sake. Then proceeded to give the domicile a good cleaning. Mind you, I did not say a thorough cleaning (it's not Spring Cleaning time quite yet), but a good one. And admittedly, it needed it.
Next, I jet up to the local merchant sector known pragmatically as The Yoke to complete some transactions, pick up a few goods and utilize some services, then I'm back to the hideout where I put the final touches on an client abstract. Not the big one which I've been putting off for the past three weeks and intended to hammer on this morning when I was nodding off last night, but at least I'm out of distractions. I have to do the demand now.
So now that I've accomplished a good deal of what I intended for the day, I'm at a bit of a loss. I just spoke with FC, and she's apparently got a nasty case of food poisoning. Been throwing up since 10:00 last night, so I guess we're not going to get together as previously planned.
OK...
I'm going to see the boys tomorrow for football and poker, so they're all either with their respective FC's, working, or already cruising temporary FC's. And I don't feel like rolling as the 3rd-, 5th- or any other odd-numbered Wheel this evening. So where does that leave me?
Well, there's always the rest of that take-out in the fridge. I could warm that up and go back to work for a few more hours-rationalizing that I'm "preparing" myself for The Canons with all of this extra dedication and labor. Or I could crank up the X-box for some good ol' fraggin' fun!! Maybe I could read one of these five books I've set aside or purchased in the past month. There's always the new Netflix sitting on the idiot-box...
...
...
...(Sound FX: crickets)...
Boy, I'm really fucking lame.
Finally, there's always heading on out, "Lone Wolf style", as J-Catz the barman once called it, and seeing what kind of action I can find. While I am no stranger to this particular modus operendi, lately I've found that it's often more trouble then it's really worth. But hey, maybe I'll have one of those nights that makes for interesting reading on the blog, adds a little spice to get the ol' jucies flowing again, and thus elevate my out of this mundanity.
One thing's for sure: That leftover pasta is calling my name.
"Real Life, No Police Chases," by Anna Quindlen, Newsweek, Jan. 23, 2006
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
OK, I'll play along.
A blog game from Birdie:
Two Parts of Your Heritage
1. Passive-aggressive personality with a predilection for addiction (specifically alcohol and, well let's just say I've conquered a few demons. Thanks, Mom.
2. A penchant for scathing sarcasm and condescension. I'd like to give a big shout-out to Dad!
Two Things That Scare You
1. Being wrong/incorrect, ever.
2. Being embarrassed.
Two fears you overcame
1. Being wrong/incorrect. I've come to accept the fact that I am, more often than not. And learning from your mistakes is so much more rewarding once you get over it.
2. Being embarrassed. Pride is such a dangerous, cumbersome thing... alright, let's be honest. I still haven't gotten over this one.
Two of Your Everyday Essentials
1. Integrity
2. A bong hit or two at the end of the day, it's my Prozac.
Two things you are Wearing Right Now
1. sweats (it's laundry night)
2. leather teddy (because I look so damn SEXY in it)
Two things you wore too much this year
1. Underwear, which gets in the way of sex
2. My ego on my sleeve
This year's Favorite Bands or Musical Artists
1. Beastie Boys (I actually tried to sing a B-Boys rap at karaoke with my boy Rob, what a friggin' abortion that was.
2. Rolling Stones- last year, this year, every freakin' year!!
Two Things You Want in a Relationship
1. Another person...
2. who's female
Two of your favorite Movies of the Year
1. Crash
2. Sideways
Best movies of all time
1. Apocalypse Now (Saigon. Shit...)
2. Caddyshack (How 'bout a Fresca!?!)
Two things You hate
1. Stupidity
2. Apathy
Two of Your Favorite Hobbies
1. Talking, or in this case, writing about my self. Hell, you're reading it
2. Cunnilingus
Two things you learned this year
1. I CAN quit smoking cigarettes. Even after 20 freakin' years.
2. ... how much more I don't know.
Two Accomplishments You are Proud of
1. Settlements in the 'K v State' and "M v City' matters. I really sharpened some skills on those two.
2. The Hamm Project
Two Things You Want Really Badly
1. Acceptance to and entry in 'seminary'.
2. That is two things.
Two places you went this year.
1. Mexico, to clear my head and gain some focus. An interesting experience.
2. Canada, to meet FC's parents at Christmas. An interesting experience.
Two Places You Want to go on Vacation
1. Italy
2. Belize
Two Things You Want to Do Before You Die
1. Live long,
2. and prosper.
Two Ways that you are a Stereotypical Example of your Gender
1. Sex and food make me happy, don't they you?
2. I really do not need to be engaged in conversation, every minute of the day. So if I'm not talking, it may be because I have nothing to say. But believe me, when I do, I will be sure to let you know.
Two things that make you stand out.
1. My laugh.
2. My... what, "presence"? Nah, my ego. For some reason, I can piss someone off just by sitting next to them at a bar.
Two Things You Normally Wouldn't Admit
1. I miss one night-stands.
2. Sometimes I do miss Illinois.
Two Goals for the New Year
1. Onward,
2. and upward.
Cheers!!
Two Parts of Your Heritage
1. Passive-aggressive personality with a predilection for addiction (specifically alcohol and, well let's just say I've conquered a few demons. Thanks, Mom.
2. A penchant for scathing sarcasm and condescension. I'd like to give a big shout-out to Dad!
Two Things That Scare You
1. Being wrong/incorrect, ever.
2. Being embarrassed.
Two fears you overcame
1. Being wrong/incorrect. I've come to accept the fact that I am, more often than not. And learning from your mistakes is so much more rewarding once you get over it.
2. Being embarrassed. Pride is such a dangerous, cumbersome thing... alright, let's be honest. I still haven't gotten over this one.
Two of Your Everyday Essentials
1. Integrity
2. A bong hit or two at the end of the day, it's my Prozac.
Two things you are Wearing Right Now
1. sweats (it's laundry night)
2. leather teddy (because I look so damn SEXY in it)
Two things you wore too much this year
1. Underwear, which gets in the way of sex
2. My ego on my sleeve
This year's Favorite Bands or Musical Artists
1. Beastie Boys (I actually tried to sing a B-Boys rap at karaoke with my boy Rob, what a friggin' abortion that was.
2. Rolling Stones- last year, this year, every freakin' year!!
Two Things You Want in a Relationship
1. Another person...
2. who's female
Two of your favorite Movies of the Year
1. Crash
2. Sideways
Best movies of all time
1. Apocalypse Now (Saigon. Shit...)
2. Caddyshack (How 'bout a Fresca!?!)
Two things You hate
1. Stupidity
2. Apathy
Two of Your Favorite Hobbies
1. Talking, or in this case, writing about my self. Hell, you're reading it
2. Cunnilingus
Two things you learned this year
1. I CAN quit smoking cigarettes. Even after 20 freakin' years.
2. ... how much more I don't know.
Two Accomplishments You are Proud of
1. Settlements in the 'K v State' and "M v City' matters. I really sharpened some skills on those two.
2. The Hamm Project
Two Things You Want Really Badly
1. Acceptance to and entry in 'seminary'.
2. That is two things.
Two places you went this year.
1. Mexico, to clear my head and gain some focus. An interesting experience.
2. Canada, to meet FC's parents at Christmas. An interesting experience.
Two Places You Want to go on Vacation
1. Italy
2. Belize
Two Things You Want to Do Before You Die
1. Live long,
2. and prosper.
Two Ways that you are a Stereotypical Example of your Gender
1. Sex and food make me happy, don't they you?
2. I really do not need to be engaged in conversation, every minute of the day. So if I'm not talking, it may be because I have nothing to say. But believe me, when I do, I will be sure to let you know.
Two things that make you stand out.
1. My laugh.
2. My... what, "presence"? Nah, my ego. For some reason, I can piss someone off just by sitting next to them at a bar.
Two Things You Normally Wouldn't Admit
1. I miss one night-stands.
2. Sometimes I do miss Illinois.
Two Goals for the New Year
1. Onward,
2. and upward.
Cheers!!
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Am I coming through loud and clear?
First off, let me apologize to my massive readership (all 1.5 of you. You know who you are). I am sorry I have been so remiss in posting over the past month. I can't really use the excuse that I had a bunch of Christmas shopping or other holiday related bullshit to do, because I don't really participate in that crap.
Except for the drinking part. I DO particpate in that wholeheartedly. But the rest of the Ho Ho Hoopla... well, I pretty much take a pass on that stuff.
This not to say that I've been ignoring you, dear Constant Reader(s). Quite the contrary, I've had a number of things worthy of jotting down in my little electronic notebook over the past few weeks, but with all of the year-end shit to do at the Ranch (particularly the few insufferable clients I have), the holiday binge drinking and gladhanding fuck-fests as well as the demands on my time and attention made by FC (not necessarily a negative thing), I just haven't been able to maintain the proper focus to rant properly. But now the all of that crap is past us for another year or so, and I can get back on my high fucking horse and start dishing out the shit my little sector of the world so richly deserves.
And so, with that, I give you:
CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW, MOTHERFUCKER?!?!?
I'll dispense with the set-up on this one, because 1) you should be smart enough to figure it out on your own, you mental-fucking-midget, and 2) it would ruin the story if I spoon fed you everything.
So, here is the letter I wanted to send:
Dear Bitch,
I have had it. I have had just about enough of the constant fucking noise which emanates from your floor, through my ceiling and in to my domicile. This shit has been going on now for TWO FUCKING YEARS and I am just about to go postal on your haughty little ass!
You're old enough to remember where the term "postal" comes from, right? Well, I tell you what, bitch, I've got my twelve gauge loaded and ready to go. Given the fact that the door to your apartment isn't strong enough to withstand an elephant's fart, I won't even need to waste a shell on the deadbolt in order to gain access to your bungalow a mere 6 feet above me. Nope, I'll just walk right upstairs, and with a good solid kick, be inside taking care of business like the governor of California in one of those robot movies.
And it's a good thing I've got a weapon and ammo that pack some punch, because I'll definitely need all the power I can get, taking care of that herd of buffalo you must have housed up there. I know they look like children, but from where I sit, those are obnoxious rug rats of yours make more noise than the extras on a Kevin Costner set.
EVERY morning and EVERY fucking evening, I am subjected to the endless thumping, thudding, banging and booming as those mouthy little shit monsters of yours run and jump throughout your apartment. And this has been going on now since you moved in back in November of 2003. Seriously. Two years, I have been patient. Two years I have been understanding. But my patience has reached its end, honey, and I am about to give you a little reality check.
I know, I know. Things are tough for you, being a single mother of two children under the age of 10. You made sure to point that out to me on one of the occasions when I knocked on your door to complain about the noise. And I think I've given you quite a bit of latitude because of your single-motherness. But that shit don't fly now, especially since you've some dude shakin' up with you full time. Besides, I've got two fucking words for you, the erstwhile single mother. BIRTH CONTROL!!! If you can't handle 'em, don't fucking breed 'em. Oh, your marriage didn't work out?? Well join the fucking parade. No fucking wonder, given your charming personality. And if you fucked your former husband like you fuck your new biker husband, it's no wonder he left you. The most action I've heard coming from your boudoir is 1 minute's worth of half-hearted pumping, and then your off to the bathroom to wash up. Granted, your boy may have a hair-trigger, but that's probably because he just wants to get it the fuck over with. I imagine you bitching and nagging all the way through the intercourse, and he's lucky to even maintain an erection long enough to blow his load. Hopefully, he's got his jimmy on, or he's fixed. I'd hate for anyone to suffer through another pregnancy with you.
Your lack of consideration is what bothers me the most. I've been up to your door a number of times this past year, complaining about the noise your ankle-biters make. Everytime you've got some lame ass excuse. I've banged my fist against my ceiling to let you know that I'm a wee bit pissed on even more occasions. But yet, nothing resembiling an honest effort to quell the rampaging herd. In fact, as I write this at 9:30 PM, I can still hear your little fucktards cavorting like satyrs in the pasture. This shit begins every morning at 6:30 AM and continues until 9-10 at night.
You know what really cracks me up, you slack-cunted, mongoloid hausfrau*? The reaction I got when I finally called the resident manager to inform her that I was sending in a letter of complaint. She stated, and I do quote: "It's funny you should be the one to register a complaint against her. Normally when somebody calls me with a complaint such as yours, I'm groaning at the unreasonableness of it, and trying to find a way to resolve the issue without creating any further commotion. But in this case, I'm looking forward to receiving your letter, because she has NO problem in lodging complaints against everyone else in the complex. So you just send your letter right on in, and we'll deal with it as necessary."
So guess what, you uptight, self-righteous cunt. (yep, I used the 'c' word) I've got my eyes on you. You have no idea who you've pissed off. But from here on out, I plan on making your fucking insignificant, inconsiderate life even more miserable than it obviously already is. I've got the time, the energy and the wherewithall, and you've finally given me an excuse.
Sincerely,
Jaques Roux
(* this phrase copyrighted by some guy named Rob)
Now here's the letter I actually sent:
--------------------
Jaques Roux
123 Sesame Street, Unit #1
Anytown USA
January 5, 2006
Nancy, Resident Manager
Happy Homes Apartments
Anytown USA
RE: Nuisance Complaint
Dear Ms. Nancy:
I write to you at this time to advise you of what has become I consider a long-term, chronic problem. It is my intent to notify you of this nuisance in order to effect a positive and amicable solution.
Over the past two-plus years, I have endured what I consider to be an unrealistic amount of noise emanating from the residents in Unit #21. This noise is being caused by what sounds to be the heavy foot traffic of the two young children and (at least) one adult resident. I consider the frequency and severity over such a long term time has elevated this annoyance to a more acute level.
On almost every morning of the week for the past two years, I have distinctly heard the ”thumps”,” thuds”, “bangs” and “booms” of the two young children and they run, jump and play throughout their apartment. This noise will often continue throughout the day while I am present during the weekends or home on holidays or personal leave from work. Almost every evening when I return home, the noise continues until approximately 9:00 PM. The sounds of the residents as they walk, run and jump, resonate throughout my apartment, often rattling and shaking pictures and glassware and other objects within my apartment.
Now I would like to consider myself a fairly reasonable person. I understand that I live in an apartment complex with many other residents. As a result of our close proximity, we must often exercise tolerance and patience with each other as our personal lives overlap. This is the very idea which makes society “civilized”. I believe that I have exercised and demonstrated the kind of patience and restraint which should be expected from any reasonable person .
My upstairs neighbors have not, in my opinion, upheld their part of this social contract. I have notified Ms. Bitchface directly and in advance when I would be hosting small gatherings in an effort to avoid any inconvenience to her and her family. I have voiced my complaints regarding the noise directly to Ms. Bitchface on more than one occasion over the past year, but still the racket persists.
This noise intrusion is especially bothersome in the fact that I am frequently required to work from home well past “normal” business hours. I will often continue with job-related tasks during week-day evenings as well as over most weekends. Compound this with the fact that I will soon be attending graduate school, and this chronic noise will become quite unbearable.
I have carefully reviewed the language within my rental agreement with Tracy Ann Apartments as well as the Landlord-Tenant Acts and other applicable RCW’s dealing with laws and regulations involving apartment residency. Upon review, I note the following stipulations contained within the rental agreement itself:
· Quite hours are from 10:00 PM to 8:00 AM daily. Please refrain from doing laundry, vacuuming or any other activity that may disturb your neighbors. [Emphasis added]
· Noise from television [sic] and stereos should be maintained to a level which stays within the walls of the apartment. [Emphasis added]
· Tenant is obligated to not permit a nuisance (substantial interference with other tenants’ use of their property). [Emphasis added]
It is my position that due to the severity, frequency and duration of the noise emanating from Unit #2 into my dwelling (Unit #1), as well as the conditions set forth above pursuant to RCW 59.18, the residents of HappyHomes Apartments, Unit #2 (Ms. Bitchface and family) have violated the terms of the rental agreement by creating a nuisance and, after notification, have allowed said nuisance to persist for an unreasonable time.
Please accept this correspondence as constructive notice regarding my complaint and be advised that from henceforth, I will be documenting each and every occurrence of noise which I consider invasive, intrusive and otherwise unreasonable. Furthermore, I will contact the Resident Manager to notify them of each instance as they occur. If my notification of this nuisance fails to result in a significant behavior modification and reduction in noise, or if I experience any deleterious impact to my person or property as a consequence of my complaints, I will be forced to proceed with further, more significant action.
Finally, let me please state that I bring this matter to your attention not to create strife or discord within the Happy Homes Apartment community. I enjoy living here a great deal and harbor no malice or ill-will towards the residents of Unit #2. But I believe that I have been more than tolerant with respect to this matter. My patience has reached its end.
If you would like to discuss this matter further, please feel free to contact me at (000) 555-1212, or at work, (000) 555-1313. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation in this matter.
Respectfully,
Jaques Roux
cc: Ms. Pissy Bitchface
-------------------------
I dropped my love notes in the outgoing mail at the Ranch today. I expect that they will reach their intended recipients by tomorrow eveing. I suspect that should get a rise out of someone...
Except for the drinking part. I DO particpate in that wholeheartedly. But the rest of the Ho Ho Hoopla... well, I pretty much take a pass on that stuff.
This not to say that I've been ignoring you, dear Constant Reader(s). Quite the contrary, I've had a number of things worthy of jotting down in my little electronic notebook over the past few weeks, but with all of the year-end shit to do at the Ranch (particularly the few insufferable clients I have), the holiday binge drinking and gladhanding fuck-fests as well as the demands on my time and attention made by FC (not necessarily a negative thing), I just haven't been able to maintain the proper focus to rant properly. But now the all of that crap is past us for another year or so, and I can get back on my high fucking horse and start dishing out the shit my little sector of the world so richly deserves.
And so, with that, I give you:
CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW, MOTHERFUCKER?!?!?
I'll dispense with the set-up on this one, because 1) you should be smart enough to figure it out on your own, you mental-fucking-midget, and 2) it would ruin the story if I spoon fed you everything.
So, here is the letter I wanted to send:
Dear Bitch,
I have had it. I have had just about enough of the constant fucking noise which emanates from your floor, through my ceiling and in to my domicile. This shit has been going on now for TWO FUCKING YEARS and I am just about to go postal on your haughty little ass!
You're old enough to remember where the term "postal" comes from, right? Well, I tell you what, bitch, I've got my twelve gauge loaded and ready to go. Given the fact that the door to your apartment isn't strong enough to withstand an elephant's fart, I won't even need to waste a shell on the deadbolt in order to gain access to your bungalow a mere 6 feet above me. Nope, I'll just walk right upstairs, and with a good solid kick, be inside taking care of business like the governor of California in one of those robot movies.
And it's a good thing I've got a weapon and ammo that pack some punch, because I'll definitely need all the power I can get, taking care of that herd of buffalo you must have housed up there. I know they look like children, but from where I sit, those are obnoxious rug rats of yours make more noise than the extras on a Kevin Costner set.
EVERY morning and EVERY fucking evening, I am subjected to the endless thumping, thudding, banging and booming as those mouthy little shit monsters of yours run and jump throughout your apartment. And this has been going on now since you moved in back in November of 2003. Seriously. Two years, I have been patient. Two years I have been understanding. But my patience has reached its end, honey, and I am about to give you a little reality check.
I know, I know. Things are tough for you, being a single mother of two children under the age of 10. You made sure to point that out to me on one of the occasions when I knocked on your door to complain about the noise. And I think I've given you quite a bit of latitude because of your single-motherness. But that shit don't fly now, especially since you've some dude shakin' up with you full time. Besides, I've got two fucking words for you, the erstwhile single mother. BIRTH CONTROL!!! If you can't handle 'em, don't fucking breed 'em. Oh, your marriage didn't work out?? Well join the fucking parade. No fucking wonder, given your charming personality. And if you fucked your former husband like you fuck your new biker husband, it's no wonder he left you. The most action I've heard coming from your boudoir is 1 minute's worth of half-hearted pumping, and then your off to the bathroom to wash up. Granted, your boy may have a hair-trigger, but that's probably because he just wants to get it the fuck over with. I imagine you bitching and nagging all the way through the intercourse, and he's lucky to even maintain an erection long enough to blow his load. Hopefully, he's got his jimmy on, or he's fixed. I'd hate for anyone to suffer through another pregnancy with you.
Your lack of consideration is what bothers me the most. I've been up to your door a number of times this past year, complaining about the noise your ankle-biters make. Everytime you've got some lame ass excuse. I've banged my fist against my ceiling to let you know that I'm a wee bit pissed on even more occasions. But yet, nothing resembiling an honest effort to quell the rampaging herd. In fact, as I write this at 9:30 PM, I can still hear your little fucktards cavorting like satyrs in the pasture. This shit begins every morning at 6:30 AM and continues until 9-10 at night.
You know what really cracks me up, you slack-cunted, mongoloid hausfrau*? The reaction I got when I finally called the resident manager to inform her that I was sending in a letter of complaint. She stated, and I do quote: "It's funny you should be the one to register a complaint against her. Normally when somebody calls me with a complaint such as yours, I'm groaning at the unreasonableness of it, and trying to find a way to resolve the issue without creating any further commotion. But in this case, I'm looking forward to receiving your letter, because she has NO problem in lodging complaints against everyone else in the complex. So you just send your letter right on in, and we'll deal with it as necessary."
So guess what, you uptight, self-righteous cunt. (yep, I used the 'c' word) I've got my eyes on you. You have no idea who you've pissed off. But from here on out, I plan on making your fucking insignificant, inconsiderate life even more miserable than it obviously already is. I've got the time, the energy and the wherewithall, and you've finally given me an excuse.
Sincerely,
Jaques Roux
(* this phrase copyrighted by some guy named Rob)
Now here's the letter I actually sent:
--------------------
Jaques Roux
123 Sesame Street, Unit #1
Anytown USA
January 5, 2006
Nancy, Resident Manager
Happy Homes Apartments
Anytown USA
RE: Nuisance Complaint
Dear Ms. Nancy:
I write to you at this time to advise you of what has become I consider a long-term, chronic problem. It is my intent to notify you of this nuisance in order to effect a positive and amicable solution.
Over the past two-plus years, I have endured what I consider to be an unrealistic amount of noise emanating from the residents in Unit #21. This noise is being caused by what sounds to be the heavy foot traffic of the two young children and (at least) one adult resident. I consider the frequency and severity over such a long term time has elevated this annoyance to a more acute level.
On almost every morning of the week for the past two years, I have distinctly heard the ”thumps”,” thuds”, “bangs” and “booms” of the two young children and they run, jump and play throughout their apartment. This noise will often continue throughout the day while I am present during the weekends or home on holidays or personal leave from work. Almost every evening when I return home, the noise continues until approximately 9:00 PM. The sounds of the residents as they walk, run and jump, resonate throughout my apartment, often rattling and shaking pictures and glassware and other objects within my apartment.
Now I would like to consider myself a fairly reasonable person. I understand that I live in an apartment complex with many other residents. As a result of our close proximity, we must often exercise tolerance and patience with each other as our personal lives overlap. This is the very idea which makes society “civilized”. I believe that I have exercised and demonstrated the kind of patience and restraint which should be expected from any reasonable person .
My upstairs neighbors have not, in my opinion, upheld their part of this social contract. I have notified Ms. Bitchface directly and in advance when I would be hosting small gatherings in an effort to avoid any inconvenience to her and her family. I have voiced my complaints regarding the noise directly to Ms. Bitchface on more than one occasion over the past year, but still the racket persists.
This noise intrusion is especially bothersome in the fact that I am frequently required to work from home well past “normal” business hours. I will often continue with job-related tasks during week-day evenings as well as over most weekends. Compound this with the fact that I will soon be attending graduate school, and this chronic noise will become quite unbearable.
I have carefully reviewed the language within my rental agreement with Tracy Ann Apartments as well as the Landlord-Tenant Acts and other applicable RCW’s dealing with laws and regulations involving apartment residency. Upon review, I note the following stipulations contained within the rental agreement itself:
· Quite hours are from 10:00 PM to 8:00 AM daily. Please refrain from doing laundry, vacuuming or any other activity that may disturb your neighbors. [Emphasis added]
· Noise from television [sic] and stereos should be maintained to a level which stays within the walls of the apartment. [Emphasis added]
· Tenant is obligated to not permit a nuisance (substantial interference with other tenants’ use of their property). [Emphasis added]
It is my position that due to the severity, frequency and duration of the noise emanating from Unit #2 into my dwelling (Unit #1), as well as the conditions set forth above pursuant to RCW 59.18, the residents of HappyHomes Apartments, Unit #2 (Ms. Bitchface and family) have violated the terms of the rental agreement by creating a nuisance and, after notification, have allowed said nuisance to persist for an unreasonable time.
Please accept this correspondence as constructive notice regarding my complaint and be advised that from henceforth, I will be documenting each and every occurrence of noise which I consider invasive, intrusive and otherwise unreasonable. Furthermore, I will contact the Resident Manager to notify them of each instance as they occur. If my notification of this nuisance fails to result in a significant behavior modification and reduction in noise, or if I experience any deleterious impact to my person or property as a consequence of my complaints, I will be forced to proceed with further, more significant action.
Finally, let me please state that I bring this matter to your attention not to create strife or discord within the Happy Homes Apartment community. I enjoy living here a great deal and harbor no malice or ill-will towards the residents of Unit #2. But I believe that I have been more than tolerant with respect to this matter. My patience has reached its end.
If you would like to discuss this matter further, please feel free to contact me at (000) 555-1212, or at work, (000) 555-1313. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation in this matter.
Respectfully,
Jaques Roux
cc: Ms. Pissy Bitchface
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I dropped my love notes in the outgoing mail at the Ranch today. I expect that they will reach their intended recipients by tomorrow eveing. I suspect that should get a rise out of someone...
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