Ridiculous Thoughts

Had an interesting evening last night. Around 11:30pm-ish my noisy neighbours downstairs decided to revert back to their primitive ways and were partying. Loudly. Beyond music so loud I could sing along, some of the girls were down in the courtyard shrieking and “playing” in the rain, drinking beer, chasing each other – you know, as if they are the only ones who live here.

I realize it was Saturday night and I hate to be one of “those” people but it was going on midnight, I was knackered having been up since 5:45am and working all day and wanted to go to bed. I knew if I didn’t do something about the noise I’d never get to sleep and I’d just get angrier and angrier.

Here’s my problem: I don’t like confrontations. I especially don’t like knocking on some stranger’s door, knowing there’s a room full of teenie meanies who are drunk and obnoxious to complain about the noise only to know that when I leave they’ll mock me and carry on. What’s more, I shouldn’t have to put up with that. It’s after 10pm and the apartment rules are clear on noise after 10.

So once again I called the police. This would be the third time I had to resort to that with them. It’s always late at night and sometimes it’s in the middle of the week during the school year when they get loud like this. I can’t call the landlord because they have no afterhours number. So I have to call the cops and all I want the cops to do is freak them out a little and get them to either move the party somewhere else or break it up or make them keep it down.

An because I’m nosey I listen to every word the cops say to them both on the balcony and out in the hall. I just want to know the outcome basically so I can work out if it’s ok to go to bed and you know, sleep and stuff or if I’m in for more noise and a second call to the cops. Besides, the first time I called the cops on them it was 3am and they were having some kind of orgy in the shower with 2 girls and 2 guys and when the cop heard that the bastard began flirting with the girls. I was livid.

But this time they sent Officer McHardass. But to backtrack a little, my daughter heard the girls shout to her friends to bolt because the cops were here. And there was a mad dash to get to the basement and out the back door by a bunch of people. So when McHardass showed up they lied through their teeth and said there were just the three girls there having a night in.

They then proceeded to spew a string of lies and a litany of their virtues to get themselves out of trouble because the cop was going to bust them for drinking underage. They told them the ‘fucking bitch’ upstairs is harassing them, that I call the cops on them if they sneeze too loud, that I have parties all the time (HA!) and they never call the cops on me, that I stomp around at 6am every morning (oh I’m sorry was my getting ready for work BOTHERING you?) and that was some of the nicer things they mentioned. Then they broke out the, ‘I’m a good person; we were just playing in the rain; we didn’t even have music on (*cough* bullshit *cough*). Then it just spiraled into some of the funniest sob story stuff I think I’ve ever heard.

One of the girls was loaded. Just completely out of her tree drunk. She started giving attitude to the cops which, of course, they did not take kindly to and eventually I believe she was arrested. But did she ever put up a fight. First, while the police were sorting out the alcohol, she was out on the balcony sobbing. Big blubbering sobs that were so fake it was amusing. She would go from crocodile tears to normal conversation mode in the blink of an eye with nary a catch in her voice as she spoke. Then she actually did start crying for real when she began feeling very sorry for herself. And she actually said, “Why me God?” Because you’re a fucking moron, that’s why. Somewhere in the distance, a man began to sing mournfully, “No-boooody knows… the trouble I’ve seeeeen…”

And then she began to repeat a bunch of Hail Mary prayers along any other prayer that popped into her little head. Over and over she prayed for God to get her out of this dumb situation she found herself in. She worked herself into quite the frenzy. She then began blabbering to McHardass that she was just getting her life together, that she’d been through so much (which apparently included about 6 months in juvey for alcohol-related trouble) and that she shouldn’t have to go through this again. She was a straight-A student, she’d been a cheerleader, a choir member and on and on went her virtues.

Then she bolted. She went out the door and started walking down the street. What she didn’t know was that the McHardass’ partner had left that way and was apparently ready for her because the next thing we heard were a bunch of violent shrieks as he tried to subdue her. Man, she screamed bloody murder. People came outside to watch the show.

Anyway, eventually the cops left with all of their beer. The girl who lives in the apartment wasn’t cited I guess because the liquor wasn’t hers although everyone there drinking it was underage. And also after the cops left all the party people who bolted came right back and they began talking about the whole thing, loudly, on the balcony (which is right below my bedroom window.)

When I call the landlord on Monday to tell her about this whole incident, they will probably be evicted. Do I feel bad about it? Part of me does. I don’t want to be crabby neighbour and I’m certainly not much of a bitch – unless you break the rules, disrupt my peace or invade my space. Then I guess I can be. But I was young. I know what it’s like to be at a party that’s busted by the cops. It’s scary.

I might even have felt some sympathy for them when I realized it was going to be a bigger situation then a simple warning to keep the noise down. That is, until they started slandering me, making up lies and saying just about outrageous thing they could think of about me and my kid to get themselves out of trouble. Then they lost any sympathy I might have given them. Now I just want them gone and perhaps in the next place they move to, they’ll learn to have some respect for their neighbours.

I guess my only worry now is retaliation which I wouldn’t put past them – but they’d have to be the biggest morons on the planet not to realize anything they do to damage my property (I’m thinking of my car and Shan’s bike which are downstairs and out of my eyesight) would lead right to them because they will be the first people I suspect. So I figure the most they’d do is confront me in the hall some time. I’d hate it but I’ve got the landlord, the tenant rules, a record of their disturbing the peace, and the fact that I’ve been a good tenant here for almost 7 years on my side. They’ve been here a few months, they’re always in trouble with the landlord for trashing the courtyard and smoking in the halls and of course the calls to the cops.

The lesson? Don’t fuck with me after 10pm.

You know when you’re watching some TV show or movie and there’s an almost obligatory shower scene with some hottie where they’re slowly letting rivulets of water pour over their bodies and they just seem to stand under the spray with their eyes closed, perfect cascading hair trailing down their backs (and how they’re makeup miraculously stays on)? There’s always a full body shot, tastefully done from outside the steamy shower where you can just make out their perky assets in silhouette because of course their shower curtain is clear but fogged up.

I always think to myself, “Who the hell takes a shower like that?” When I take a shower it’s always with minimal time to stand in the shower and contemplate life as rivulets of water wash over me. I’m in, I shampoo, I condition, I soap up, I rinse, I get the hell out, towel off and get ready for work.

But tonight, since my AC is dead for the time being I decided to take a cold shower before bed just to get rid of this humid stickiness. Since I had time, I decided to take the moviestar shower. A cold moviestar shower, but a moviestar shower nonetheless.

Well it was fabulous.

Maybe it just felt good to cool off, but I’m telling you it was wonderful to stand there under the spray not thinking about when I need to be out the door and instead thinking about nothing at all except how good the water felt. I posed provacatively under the shower nozzle with my eyes shut as the water ran down my face and neck. I stayed under the spray for some time just enjoying the feel of it. I turned and let it course through my hair. It was lovely and actually relaxing.

Of course I didn’t stay in there for an hour or anything. I do need to go to bed 🙂 But I will say that that was one of the more enjoyable showers I’ve ever had. And now I know why they shower like that in the movies 🙂

I know. What an odd thing to blog about. I don’t care. That was a damn good shower 🙂

Sunday I watched the 1967 movie, “In Cold Blood” followed directly by “Capote” with Phillip Seymour Hoffman. An interesting experience.

I’ll admit to not knowing very much about either subject. My impressions of the murders in Holcomb, Kansas are limited to Bill Bryson’s comments on it when he traveled through the town. He seemed genuinely shocked to discover the inhabitants of the town (well, the ones he talked to about it were mainly teenagers just off of track practice) barely knew anything about the murders.

Bryson accosted one of the coaches who told him that not long after Capote’s book was released the townsfolk hated it and resented how he used them to get his story and the book was never stocked in town or talked about.

Anyway I thought “In Cold Blood” was excellent. Made even more eerie knowing they filmed in the actual Clutter house only a few short years after the murders and bot long after the killers were hanged. The final scene of Perry Smith swinging from the rope was almost terrifying. Mostly because I was sort of shocked to find they still hung people in 1967. In Kansas. Right next door.

Watching Capote right after that was intriguing. Hoffman deserves all the accolades for sure. It was really interesting though to see the same events through his eyes, so to speak.

Fucking hell it’s hot in here. My AC conked out again so I’m sitting here just miserable wishing I could kill time before it starts working again by immersing myself in a pool (and not be surrounded by hundreds of screaming, splashing kids who don’t seem to care they’re invading your minimal amount of personal space.) My dream is to own a house with my own damn pool. Indoor so I could swim year-round. I’ll have a little waterfall too along with a slide.

*sigh*

I think I’ll go make do with a cold shower.

I somehow found myself wandering the streets of GI unexpectedly this afternoon. So I thought it would be a good time for an auditory ramble 🙂

The second night of our Movie Madness viewings is over. Oddly, readers picked Forrest Gump as their favourite movie since 1980, yet we had almost twice the audience for Raiders of the Lost Ark 🙂

So The Grand had around 200 folks in for FG last night. We gave away Tshirts and boxes of chocolates and we had around 350-ish tonight for Raiders and we gave away gift certificates and fake snakes 🙂 I think tomorrow when we show Shawshank Redemption we’re giving away foot-long files and more Tshirts.

On the downside it’s been like, a thousand degrees out this weekend. I hate the feckin’ heat so much.

I’ll be interested to see what our turnout will be tomorrow night. But even if it isn’t we can still say the weekend was a success. We worried a little about doing this over Memorial weekend but I’m starting to think it was something of a master stroke. Especially for tomorrow’s show since people are off work Monday, they may be more inclined to go out on a Sunday night.

It’s actually been Big Screen weekend for the kid and me. The MM stuff and then we went to X3 this afternoon which we really enjoyed. I didn’t go into it as a hardcore X-Men comic fan and instead went into it as someone who love the first two. That helped the enjoyment factor for me. I still think X2 was the better movie but I dug seeing more of Storm in action and the premise of a cure for mutants was cool. Actually the more I htink about it the more I wish the film could have been done by Singer because I think he would have done a better job. But as a comic action film it wasn’t horrible. I’m betting Mike hates it though.

Anyone out there going to see it, be sure to wait through the credits. There’s a brief extra scene (very very brief, but cool.)

Anyway, time to hit the sack. I’ve got a boatload of Soprano’s to catch up on tomorrow.

EDIT – Hey Michael Rosenbaumers 🙂 I saw someone linked to this post on his forum and that made me smile. He really is quite adorable isn’t he? I can’t say enough wonderful things about him, his acting, his charm, humour, and hawtness 😉 Anyway, just wanted to say hi to his fans stopping by 🙂 Weird dream eh?

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Been a while since I’ve had a dream worth posting but this morning’s was pretty weird. It involved Dolly Parton, Lex Luthor, the band Flyleaf and my friend Tonga.

Tonga and I were going to see Flyleaf perform an acoustic gig inside a big room in this sort of victorian farmhouse. They were opening for Dolly. So we’re watching them do their thing – it’s a very small audience too – all lined up on the little stage strumming guitars and singing etc. and they finish up so Dolly can get going on her show. I don’t remember hearing any music at all, I just know they performed.

Dolly sang part of her first song and I noticed the actor who plays Lex from Smallville sitting near us – but in the dream he *was* Lex Luthor and not Michael Rosenbaum. I remember saying to Tonga that Lex was here. But also, I knew Lex wasn’t the evil genius he portrays rather he was a boring old attorney. I dunno. I’m weird and yes I watch too much Smallville.

Anyway, midway through Dolly’s first song she stops and pulls Tonga and me onstage and tells us we’re going to help her out with a little skit. The skit requires us to change into costumes. Tonga’s involved a corset and mine involved a black bouffant, flippy wig that had some kind of glue on the right side that had to be stuck to my cheek to make it look right. It was an elaborate wig as you’d imagine any wig of Dolly’s to be.

We do our skit (no idea what the skit was) and it isn’t received well – meaning it wasn’t that funny – and both Tonga and I were glad to get offstage and back into the audience. Though it was cool to be onstage with Dolly 🙂 When I took the wig off the part that was glued to my cheek just ripped off my skin and it hurt like a bitch. The area of my face had a rectangular, angry red mark on it that burned. I was mortified to have this blotch on my face and I kept trying to use my (real) hair to hide it while trying to stifle whiny moans of pain. I distinctly remember trying not to let Lex see it.

After the show, Dolly is packing up and I approach her with my hand over my cheek and I ask her what the hell that glue is that burns so much and she tells me in her own ‘Dolly’ way that it ain’t no big deal and if I go up to her dressin’ room and find a bottle of her ‘Original Moonshine’ it’ll get that red mark right off.

So I go off thinking I’m looking for a still or something and instead find an old-fashioned bottle that looks like the tonic you’d buy in a general store in the 1800s called ‘Original Moonshine.’

Then I woke up. The end.

My website decided to take a little holiday and neglected to tell me. I hate it when it does that. In fact it looks like it left part of itself in whatever Happy Place it went off to because not all of it is working.

Oh well. At least I can blog again. That’s the important thing 🙂

Today is my mum’s birthday. Happy Birthday Mum, where ever you are. We miss you.

So I couldn’t get to sleep last night (or rather, BACK to sleep after the cat decided to try and burrow through my bedroom door just as I was about to have a delicious dream.) So my mind wandered as I lay there and I got to thinking about an incidenet at the grocery store that happened earlier in the evening when a little kid tripped and fell, thwapping her head pretty hard on another lady’s shopping cart.

Here’s a sign you blog too much. Or possibly that your brain is telling you it’s time to start writing again: You begin to think of the incident in descriptive terms. You actually spend whole minutes finding the right adjective to describe the sound her head made as it hit the bottom bar of the cart. And then the next day you actually blog the story.

Sad. 🙂