Jul 252009
 

Last Sunday, we went to Rossi’s Pop-Up Market (and Alisha wants everyone to know that the essay I wrote about it for my creative non-fiction class was no exaggeration, thank you). Now, the last few times I hit up any flea market, I’ve struck out and spent most of the day pouting about it. Not even any Christopher Pike books? REALLY?

But this time, I made out. It’s a good thing I have very low standards. First, I got a Virgin Mary bracelet which I probably paid about $3 too much for and realized that I have one almost identical to it at home, but whatever. I used Henry’s money.

THEN. Then I found this piece of hot ass shit:

rainbowframe3

WHAT? They just don’t make picture frames like that anymore.

After I scrounged fifty cents out of my pocket, it was mine. ALL MINE. I grabbed that sonofabitch so fast and held it close to my face. To the lady behind the table, I said, “And I’m totally keeping these pictures in it, too!”

Then a piece fell off of it.

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I have a hat like that! I should wear it today in honor of what I’m doing. Wait – what am I doing again? Oh yeah, sitting and typing.

rainbowframe

I want to look like that when I’m on the phone!@!

It’s hanging above my microwave right now, you guys! Can you stand it!!

mary

And then some old hag wanted FOUR DOLLARS for this but Henry was like, “Tell her you only have $2” and I have to say that I felt guilty lying to someone’s great-grandmother, but she was like, “FINE TAKE IT” and then went back to chugging her Metamucil. (Alisha tried telling me that was spelled wrong, but I emerged victorious.)

It’s hung up real nice above my commode, a nice companion for my Last Supper (the epitome of religious eye sores) and this other Mary thing I have:

maryscrabble

Then Chooch pissed his pants and we had to leave.

Oct 272007
 

I’ve been fighting with a new neighbor over parking courtesy. I realize it’s a trivial thing to risk stroking over, but I have pent up anger and agression and the situation presented itself as the perfect way to let it all out. She and I had a very strained discussion about it last Sunday, but I sort of kept my cool, as I was holding the hand of my toddler and he sees me ranting and raving enough as it is.

The gist of it is that the landlord told her that the center space is hers, but I’ve been parking in that space for eight years. Typically, when I come home from work and wherever, she’s in that space so I have no choice but to park in  the one next to her.

This morning, when I was leaving for school, she was also in her car, about to leave. However, I gunned it and shot out of the driveway before she had a chance to blink, totally cutting her off. Dumb fucking bitch.

Then I stewed about it all during my Calculus class.

When I came home, she was still gone, so I shot down the driveway into my old space.

A few minutes ago, she came a’knocking. Henry answered the door, but she requested to speak to me personally. I joined her on the porch, after Christina gave me a sad glance, silently pleading with me to be nice.

And I was nice. Sort of. Through gritted teeth. We hashed out our differences — I told her I wasn’t happy with the way she came at me last week without even introducing herself, and she countered with the fact that when she first saw me a few weeks ago, I was slamming my front door and yelling about how I always get screwed with parking. ”

I mean, I saw that and thought ‘A-ight, she’s pissed off at someone, maybe me.’ Of course I’m not going to come up to and say ‘Hello, my name…’ at that point.

Henry and Christina were listening to the whole thing from inside, and when I came back in later, Henry said, “You DO have an attitude, you know” and Christina quickly echoed his sentiment. Then they talked about how I get so unnecessarily angry over nothing, simply because I crave tension and conflict. I know, and then I wonder why every muscle in my being is taut enough to snap.

Anyway, the neighbor explained to me that the only reason she’s been making a big deal about wanting to park in the middle is because the landlord has been drilling it into her head. Apparently, he keeps dumping all these rules on her without telling the rest of us (she said he also told her that none of us are allowed to park on the road, but we all do it because she’s the only one he told), and by doing so, he’s effectively pitted us all against each other. Realizing that it’s the landlord on which I should be directing my hostility (I know where I’ll be on Monday), she and I started over by going through friendly motions of introducing ourselves.

Her name is Toya, and I guess she’s not too bad. I still hate Ruth though, who hasn’t been talking to me for a few weeks now, god only knows why. Fucking fake nurse.

From now on, I’ll be parking my car on the street, to push my landlord’s buttons.