Suck it, Neighbor

I don't want to be writing this right now. I was trying to take a nap. Don't judge. I've taken mid afternoon naps since I was a teenager, and I'm so addicted to them I'd probably need the sleep equivalent of methadone to kick the habit. Plus, at least twice a year, yahoo news posts an article about how beneficial power naps can be, and if there's one source I trust, it's yahoo news. Sadly, howver, it looks like I'll have to trudge through the remainder of my day sans delicious nap because once again, my neighbor is singing in the shower.

And this isn't your run of the mill shower singing. My neighbor, a wiry legged man with a five o'clock shadow/tan in a can blonde with a D cup is practicing his/her (depending if it's day or night) rendition of 'Cocaine is a Girl's Best Friend'. It's a catchy, fun little number set to Marilyn Monroe's 'Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend', and she is pulling out all the stops. Full vibrato, lots of pizzaz. I can hear the jazz hands through the wall. There's even a section where she breaks it down, belting at full throttle: "I ain't talking 'bout no crystal meth. Co-caine..is a...gi-irllls beeest fr-ieeend!" I would be annoyed, but I know she's got a gig tonight hosting Bingo at Hamburger Mary's. Besides, he/she's not my most annoying neighbor.

There's also Gloria, the post-op Puerto Rican who has a fake flower adorned crucifix hanging from her front door. Gloria has calves the size of rump roasts and she spends her days alternating between thumping around her apartment in what must be lead soled high heels, and fucking so loudly and roughly, she must make the patrons across the street at the Tomcat cringe. Gloria isn't my most offensive neighbor, either.

Nor is Desiree, my old next door neighbor from downstairs (nee Dimitre, she became Desiree about 8 months after Jack and I moved in. I got her mail while she went to Mexico City to get the snip). Desiree is actually a fabulous neighbor. She works two jobs - check out clerk at Target, and lady of the night. She brings us cookies at Christmas time, and shooes away the homeless when their drunken heckling becomes a bit too abrasive. She also brings over clothes that are too small for her, or as she puts it "not made for big boned girls,". When she was making the switch from Dimitre to Desiree, she brought Jack all of her old man clothes. I accpeted them because I didn't want to be rude. Jack was less than, tickled pink at coming home to a pile of I'm-not-going-to-be-male-any-more hand me downs, but I know deep down, he saw that her intentions were kind. Desiree is actually my favorite neighbor because, while she often seems put together, I think the pressure of holding down two customer service jobs sometimes gets to her, and she's great fun when she becomes scatter brained. Last week, I was driving a friend to the airport at 5:30 am, and I saw Desiree running full speed toward the back of the building. Without me even asking what was wrong, she clued me in, "I threw my purse away!" Who hasn't been there?

My most annoying neighbor is just a plain old straight man. He's overweight, bald, and has a moustache, and has apparently chosen to focus the frustration brought about by these unfortunate facts on us. When my dog barks at the Fed Ex guy, he screams from behind his door "Quiet! Quiet!" When I pass him in the alley and say hi to him, he just averts his gaze like I've asked him for spare change, and mutters, "Hi." He has told us that Jack and I walk really loudly when we're leaving for work in the morning. That's right. We're all living in the midst of a tranny themed Melrose Place, and the daily ten seconds of our footsteps are what he finds disturbing. Now, I'm an open minded person. Turn your tricks, lose your junk, and blow 'em away with your narcotics themed dittys, but dude, don't be a dick.

Hello My Prettys, and Welcome

I've decided to start a blog for the same reason most people do: because I'm quasi-unemployed and a touch narcissistic. (Coincidentally, these are traits that may also lead one to pursue a career in stand up comedy.) I say 'a touch' narcissistic, and not 'full blown' because I am not enamored with my own image. In fact, looking at pictures or videos of myself is about as enticing to me as an Easter basket full of chocolate malted mayonnaise balls. This is why I do not envy famous actors.

It's bad enough that I'm forced to face my voice and image every time I check my voicemail or get some godforsaken tagged facebook picture in my inbox. I cannot imagine being stuck in traffic next to my big old mug when it's been plastered on the side of the MTA.  

There is also the public harassment to consider. I'm not talking about the mutually beneficial shit show that is LiLo and her Electrical Parade of paparazzi flashbulbs. Even middle aged character actors can have a tough time leading a normal life. I was in Rite Aid yesterday, and Ben from Lost was behind me in  line. Just as he placed his Maalox and Windex on the register belt, the woman behind him assaulted him with a barrage of 'You're Ben from Lost! I love you, but I hate you!" Ben from Lost just nodded patiently, "I understand. I understand." Other customers in the store stopped what they were doing and were now staring at the debacle.

"I mean, I really just hate you, but you're so good! Ew! I hate you!" The stock boys emerged from the back to survey the scene.

  I high tailed it out of there. I may have been buying a wagon load of cold medicine, tea, and overpriced herbal tablets, but this woman was truly sick. After one's early childhood and/or hallucinogenic drug phase, there is no excuse for a healthy individual to mistake fiction for fact. Ben from Lost is just a guy who gets up in the morning, goes to work, and delivers some lines that have been written for him by a bunch of highly paid writers. There is no reason to love nor hate him, and there is certainly no reason to squawk at him in public like you've just spotted the car that's currently being announced on Amber Alert. He's just a person whose job requires him to use his image to create a series that is mysterious, melodramatic, and gratuitously frustrating. That said, I would happily take a bit part on Lost. Like I said, I'm quasi-unemployed and a touch narcissistic.