Thursday, May 03, 2007

katie's shortcomings

I know you're probably shocked to find out that I have shortcomings. well, wait. see I'm not so sure this particular issue is a shortcoming. though recent events have led me to believe that it very well might be. I've flossed three times today and still, I am no clearer. go figure.

I always leave my keys in the car. not in the ignition, dumb ass. in the glove compartment or on the floor under my seat and I never lock it. I learned this from my father. his car has never been boosted. personally, I think it's smart. I never have to look for my keys. I always know where they are. if someone wants in, there's no need to break a window. simply open the door and knock yaself out. what pisses me off is when some schmuck does decide to bust in and doesn't have the god damned courtesy to shut the door. that's just rude. here I went to all this trouble to leave the car open and you don't have the decency to shut it? that's just dicky. I'm almost positive that the reason my car has never been stolen is because of the shock experienced when they find my keys. they probably think the car is rigged. or maybe jesus is just lookin out for his a-number-one-jewgirl.

wait. I'm getting side-tracked. oh, right. ok. unfortunately this habit has crossed over. for a while, I didn't bother locking my front door. another habit I got from pops. it made my family crazy. after the hock fest, I started locking my door. however, in recent weeks, I keep forgetting to lock it. instead of just walking in, my sister insists on screaming from the stoop I'm here. I say, it's open. she walks in and gives me the face, followed by, hello. crazy people. lock-the-fucking-door. anything to exercise guilt in the schwartz family.

soooo.... this afternoon, I was busy doing what I do. louie was in the living room napping and someone WALKED IN. a stranger just strolled his ass right through my front fucking door. no knock. no ring. no buzz. bupkas. louie jumped up and got into dick, what the fuck you doin in my house, mode, and moron that I am was so shocked, I said, I'm not wearing a bra. (note to self, katie, when strange man enters house, that's a selling point, not a deterrent). I snapped out of that real quick and as he was turning to leave, I said, GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW, OR I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL CUT YOU. (cut you? as if.) he races out of the house, slams the door and knocks. (fucking knocks. the nerve.) so, I stand at the door and say, don't you think you've behaved inappropriately enough for one day? first you break in and now you knock on my door in the hopes of being invited in? it doesn't work that way. that's not how you place a fucking social call! were you raised by a pack of wolves? (I am so my mother's daughter)... he says, I'm the homeless guy from the alley. I didn't recognize him with his head out of the trash bin and all, so through the peep hole I said, you have to go bye-bye now. go.

I felt so bad. he seems pleasant enough in that homelessy kind of way. I always give him cash and pray your way out of homelessness christian pamphlets. not that it's helping of course. I felt so guilty about screaming at him today that I gave him twenty bucks when I was dumping louie's shit in a bin. guilt. it's what's for breakfast. oy-

the lesson of the day, LOCK YOUR FUCKIN DOORS, SCHWARTZY. no more absentmindedness for you, missy.

non sequitur of the day: one of my friends mentioned that while dining at the Y of a new betty he bent last night, that her loins smelled like chef boyardee pizza. he said it was so reminiscent of a childhood memory, he couldn't stop noshing and sniffing. after laughing my ass off, I said, I think that's creepy, but I'll let you know when I'm certain.


Mountjoy said...

It cost you twenty bucks in guilt money to erase the self loathing of threatening to cut a homeless dude who barged in on you while the girls were having some swing time? For fuck sake, woman? Do you have Andrew Jacksons just sitting around the house like tissues or what? How about five bucks in hush money if I call you at 3am one day next week???????

(oh, and the pizza thing - hilarious as it is - is easy to solve. It was the anchovies, of course....)

Bacon Lady said...

I never lock my car door either. I don't even close my garage door (it's not attached to the house).

Next time someone barges into your house, tell them the Chef Boyardee story. If they laugh as hard as I did reading it, you'll have them in a good position to kick them out the door with your foot.

Writeprocrastinator said...

Mmm, Chef, ahem, where was I? Jumping Catfish, woman, you're not on "Friends!" Louie or not, you should never had the door unlocked!

I'm glad nothing bad happened this time. Did we have the talk about changing the locks? Why did you go through that, only to leave the door open???

BTW, nag, nag, nag, because we love you.

Anonymous said...

Girlie! Now we're worrying about you. Okay with the car doors. I leave my keys in my car when it's parked in the closed garage, so I get that. And I never locked my front door in Illinois, but the front door is locked here because we're in the middle of damned nowhere which is a perfect target for break-ins.

But for the love of cheesus, lock your door so you don't get univited guests.

BTW - I laughed so hard at this post that The Honey made me read it to him while he was getting ready for work this morning.


Amy Guth said...

Chef Boyardee? HAHAHAHA.

Not to Jewish Mama youse, dollface, but lock your doors, already! Do you want to scare me to death? Oy.

Ros said...

Lock up! It's not breaking and entering unless they have to actually break in!

Or, whenever someone wanders in, just say 'Oh good, the sacrifice has arrived!'

Joe said...

OK, you're tops on my list to get some surplus pepper spray and some shooting lessons.


I was ready to hear you say you don't wash your hands after peeing. Although, if you think about it, that might be even more likely to attract the homeless than leaving your door unlocked.

Al Sensu said...

Your dad is so old school. The car thing makes some quirky sense -- assuming your car is a beater. But you gotta protect the homeland, babe!

I didn't know the Chef made pizza. I grew up on his spaghetti and ravioli. I think your friend is ripe to pull a Costanza.

Coaster Punchman said...

I thought it was going to be a guy who accidentally walked into the wrong apartment. I love your initial reaction about the bra; you're right, that's probably not the best thing to scare a guy off. Nice of you go help the guy out.

Love the "Dining at the Y" thing!


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