Sunday, November 23, 2008

What the Fuck, Katie Schwartz?

Shalom Lovers.

Sorry I was so out of the loop last week -- I read nothing -- I blogged bupkas. Officially, I was the worst blogdatable out there.

Last week was sooo harreeeblay, a reprieve surely would've been getting skull fucked by Cheney's pacemaker, jizzed on by Bush's Yorkie and peed on by Laura Bush.

I'm boring? Really? I don't know, I think beets, prunes and figs are boring. Just an FYI, Anony, I'd rather be called fat, dirty, cheap and poor than boring. I'd rather be told I had vadgeitosis than be regarded as dull, flat or stale. Last week wasn't the week to kick a Jewgirl when she was already down. And PS: Grow a set and leave your name -- pussy.

See what I did there? I vented. We're not done.

The global economy is bottoming for Bush. Small nations are folding. The US economy is so deep in the shitter, it's like a diarrhea tsunami rolling deeper and deeper inland. Everyone is struggling, stressed to the point of delirium and freaked out. We're all doing the best we can. Right? Right. And now it seems I'm going to have to move. Otherwise, I run the risk of becoming one of those strange headlines that my good friend bubbsie blogs about "Chubby Jewish girl gunned down by neighbor for allegedly smoking in her apartment".

Last Sunday Cybil, my next door neighbor, introduced me to a few of her personalities. I was sitting in my kitchen, writing and minding my own fuckin' business when I heard a hammer slamming a dozen times into our shared wall, so hard, dry wall crumbled. Following that, she shrieked "STOP SMOKING". Afterwards, she stomped down the hall and pounded like a banshee on my front door, wailing "I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, LET ME IN". Did I open it? Are you new? Fuck no. After a 3 minute, what shall we call it, fist-rest, she pounded on my door again. Did I answer it? I digress.

10 minutes later, I got a neurotic email pleading with me to stop smoking. Included in should-be-immediately-admitted-to-Bellevue-psych-ward's letter was her admission that she also pounded on three other neighbor's doors to find out if they were smoking. She managed to slip in a passive aggressive, I have no idea why you couldn't hear me, or chose not to answer your door, sentence, and a, or why you're choosing to ignore me, snippet for good measure.

I wanted to say:

Dear Insaneorette;

Have you thought about BFF'ng with lithium? I think you two have the potential to live a long and healthy life together. This pocket sized friend can be yours for $27 per 100/g -- doable, no? Worst case scenario, you have to scale back on the cost of hair products. The way I see it, you don't really have much of a choice. Otherwise, you're going to find yourself a victim of a 5150 sooner than you'd like.


What I said:

Dear Neighbor:

When someone repeatedly whacks a hammer into my wall, screams at me and pounds on my door, I don't usually answer. I'm more of a let's diffuse the anger kind of girl. Though, since I've got your attention, I don't smoke. Even if I did, what I do in my own apartment is none of your business, as long as I am not breaking any laws and I'm adhering to the landlord's contract. Beyond that, there's not much you can do.

I'm sorry that you're smelling smoke. Did you know that there are raging fires throughout Southern California, and little ashes from the sky covering our cars? Perhaps that's what you're smelling. If that's the case, you'll have to track down the arsonists. You strike me as someone with a lot of gumption, so I'm sure you can find them. No doubt the police would be pleased to have someone with your superhero scent on their team.

Oh, and another thing, if you ever repeat tonight's drama, I'll be filing a restraining order against you and I'll win.

Take Care!

She responded, of course, and apologized. Which was all well and good until I got a call from my landlord on Monday asking me to.... you guessed it, stop smoking. (A) I don't fucking smoke. (B) Even if I did, they do not have the right to tell me not to. All week long, Diva Insanity slammed on my wall with her beloved hammer.


Fran said...

What kind of fucked up mishugeneh mishegos is that?

She needs meds... stat.

And a new apartment, so that you can live in fucking, non damaged dry wall peace.

Anonymous said...

Write your landlord a letter documenting what happened. Keep it simple and SFW. Tell him/her about the wall damage; odds are he/she will care more about that than the possibility of someone smoking in her own apartment.

BAC said...

I suggest you get a puppy. The smell of dog pooh and pee pee will take her mind off the smoke! ha


Freida Bee said...

Oh, I would record her hammering, and file that restraining order and perhaps inform your landlord that she's been hammering on the wall with her hammer. The wall can't look too good.

She is clearly not stable and you sure son't want her knocking on your door with that hammer.

I am sorry to hear of your woes.

Cormac Brown said...

Whadda ya mean, you "don't smoke?" You're a smokin' hot chick and that's what's got her fumin'.

Joe said...

I'm not sure but I think that imagining smells is a not-uncommon indicator of schizophrenia.

Arm yourself.

Mister Mxyzptlk said...

DenaS has a good point.

This crap is enough to drive you to...smoke?

The best humor comes from pain, and this was one of your funniest posts ever.


Kit (Keep It Trill) said...

Your neighbor gives me the creeps, particularly since she continued to hit your mutual wall with a hammer.

Many years ago, my mother and I had an overhead neighbor who went bonkers like this. That lady developed a sudden intolerance for any noise. She would lift her bed and slam it down on the floor if she heard any noise in my room, and I couldn't even play my radio. I asked her to see if I could hear what she heard. I had to put my ear to her floor to hear it. I told her politely I thought she was being unreasonable. The next time she raised a ruckus, my mom and I knocked on her door. She opened it and threw a flower pot at us with such force that we'd have had concussions if it hit us.

No more radio for me! We were scared of her because the police generally don't arrest people unless they see the crime and tell you to file a complaint which results in basically nothing.

Then she started something new. If she heard my friends and I talking in the DR, she'd lift her dining room table and slam it down on the floor. They weren't loud either. One day we left for a party, and my mother was asleep. She heard something like an explosion. The damn ceiling caved in. She thought we were dead, but we had left about 20 minutes earlier.

After this, the crazy woman quieted down, and I moved. She told my mother people at her job "were out to get her". We never found out what happened to her but she disappeared for awhile - probably to a mental hospital, and then she moved. Thank God.

I'm telling you all this, Katie, so you'll be very careful and try not to stimulate her insanity. Good luck, fo' real.

Anonymous said...

Definitely write your landlord an account of the activities.

And get yourself a hammer.

Bella Stander said...

I agree w/ Freida Bee, Dena & the other sages. To do:
1) Document every time neighbor bangs on wall or contacts you.
2) Record hammer sounds (even better with a time stamp).
3) Make a copy of neighbor's letter.
4) Send a registered letter to your landlord, stating just the facts. Include copy of neighbor's letter & list from #1.
5) Read your lease & see what it says about nuisances, your right to "quiet enjoyment," etc.
6) Start looking for a new apartment toot sweet.
7) Celebrate Chanukah in your new digs!

Bacon Lady said...

I think you should start smoking.

Anonymous said...

I don't know why I wasted all those years in psychiatry training, Katie. You rule!
(Can I use the "Have you thought about BFF'ng with lithium?" line with my patients? Pretty please?)

Mauigirl said...

I suddenly feel the urge to break into song..."If I had a hammer...I'd hammer in the morning...I'd hammer in the evening..."

Sorry you have to deal with such a nutcase!!!

Karen Zipdrive said...

I can send you a bag of fresh cat shit for her welcome mat if you'd like. But nothing says revenge like a Yoko Ono CD.

Sylvia said...

Oh my god, madness! And I hope you do report her madness or at least document it. And tell your landlord where to shove it.

You are surrounded by nutcases! Get out the feather pillows, quick.

The annoying people in my life suddenly seem not such a big deal ;)

Anonymous said...

I'm a little late to this post, Katie, but you do know that police officers and paramedics are trained and paid well to handle these types of loonies. This is one of those posts that makes me glad I live in a house.


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