Saturday, February 10, 2007

roadkill

I just happened upon some barbie photos the other day that I had to post because I'm a freak. fear not, she's not making a comeback on vey.

better late then never?

yesterday I got an email response from someone I emailed TWO FUCKING YEARS AGO. I didn't respond. not sure what to say. this morning, I got another email from him. again, not sure what to say.



see, here's the thing, not only do I have no idea what the fuck he's talking about, he thinks I'm someone else. I read the original correspondence. he included it in his e-stalk, so I find myself wondering how it is that he thinks I'm someone else.



I find this all deliciously amusing. you don't?

creepy preening

my creepy neighbor is just flaunting his creepiness now. he's escalated from a fat chick pantie sniffing nut bag to a full on meat fetishist. I feel like he preys on fat women with no self-esteem so he can convince them to eat beef jerky while riding his flesh bat.



lemme tell ya something, these ain't overly dramatic, inaccurate assessments. here's the scoop: juice and I were schlepping down the stairs and out pops creepy from his nest, toting a garbage bag.



expressing far too much enthusiasm he says, so, you ready for the big move? yeah. he glances at louie and says, he can finally go into retirement. how offensive. I'm not one of those, confront death head on, broads. retirement = death in my twisted irrational mind. my parents are not allowed to retire or age. whatever. don't judge.



so, I said, he's hardly retiring. he runs. he plays. he swims. he has a full life, he just can't go up the stairs. myob, dumb ass.



he throws out his trash. I throw louie in the car. I see him chatting up another neighbor girl. she says to him, how's THE BUSINESS coming along? briskly walking past her, he muffles, great. just great.



you know that's code. it was way too permissible voyeur. like, she photographs him putzing around from her apartment across the alley so they can re-group and mutually masturbate to the 8x11's strewn across his ikea plywood coffee table.



I ran into my buidink to chat up rubes, the fab apt mgr working on my new digs. I poke around. grab the keys and kibbitz a minute. you know how you do. as I'm heading out, CREEPY IS RIGHT THERE. I'm in the other wing. wtf?! ps: NOW he's schlepping to creep?! he wanted to know how the new digs were coming along. so he asks, can I check it out? I nodded yes on the outside, but on the inside, I was itching and burning like a yeast infection to check him for bugs.



NOW WHO DOESN'T THINK HE'S CREEPY?! HUH?! COME ON!





 

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