Larry the Laundry Nazi

Last night I had a wild hair up my ass and decided to do some laundry. It was 8 pm and the laundry room at my apartment closes at 10pm. It doesn't lock up or anything, it's just a sign on the door. I figured two hours was enough time to get one load of laundry done.



At 9:45 I went down to go fold my clothes from the dryer. If I just toss them back into my Ikea laundry hamper- straight from the dryer without folding them-they will NEVER get folded and put away. So I like to fold them fresh from the dryer right there. It took me a little over 15 minutes. I was quiet. I didn't want to disturb any of the neighbors that live above. I am a very conscientious tenant. Actually I have "lived" (with my theatre schedule, I am hardly here..just come home to sleep, basically)here for over 6 years. Sometimes I'll be around the complex and someone will ask if I've just moved in because they don't recognize me. Anyway, I finish folding and head out.

There is this man standing outside the door waiting for me to come out. He is impatiently looking at his watch and tapping his foot. He says in a high pitched voice,
"This Laundry room closes at 10 pm!"
I ask, "I am sorry, what time is it now'
"10:03 pm- I am going to report this to the manager, this is unacceptable. People are trying to sleep up there"
"Do you live above? I was just folding my clothes and trying to keep quiet...."
"No, I live on the other side, I am just trying to keep order."
He was really pissed, loud, and yelling at me at this point.
I started to get a little pissy ,myself.
I bitched,
"Well technically my clothes were done at 9:45 and I was just FOLDING my clothes. I was quiet. I bet if you even ask the people upstairs (if they are even home) that they didn't even notice I was in here. I was careful to open and close the door with out making a ruckus. Frankly, I don't think it's any of your business, asshole, to be the laundry monitor on a Friday night. I am NOT disturbing the peace, having a party...in fact, shithead- you are being quite a nuisance right now yelling at 10 o'clock at night out here"
Then he fixed his stare at me and glaringly said,
"Well, aren't you scared to be alone out here at night- by yourself?? Things can get pretty dangerous"
I looked at him,"Is that a THREAT?"
He looked worried, backed off, and said,
"he he..I was just kidding...but you don't know me- you don't know what I could do so you shouldn't talk to me like that"
I said,
"Look Gladis Kravitz- I am NOT threatened by you. For starters I am about three feet TALLER THAN YOU. I probably weigh more than you do, and I am pretty sure I could body slam you into the wall right now and leave you more brain damaged than you allready are. Do NOT mess with me. Besides- who do you think the manager is going to be more upset with? A tenant who has lived here for 6 years-without a complaint or problem -staying quietly THREE FUCKING minutes past the time in the laundry room not bugging anyone- or Larry the Laundry Nazi all up in every one's business and threatening tenants??? Maybe I should report YOU to her AND to the Police. Threats are a form of terrorism, Schmoehawk."
He muttered something that I think was an apology and stormed off. I didn't see what apartment he went to.

This morning I told the apartment manager this, and she said that she has warned him before of minding his own business and if he isn't happy with how she runs this complex, he is free to move out at any time. She'll remind him to keep his mouth shut.

On my way back I ran into my downstairs neighbor who told me that he had heard everything last night. When he heard that jerk threaten me, he was about to come out and put a stop to it- but then he saw and heard what I said, and was really impressed how I handled it. He knew I could take care of myself, but wanted me to know he would have come out if needed and if that happens again to knock on his door. That made me feel good.

I finally put the site meter on my blog. So now Big Sister is watching, kiddies. I'll be able to catch the lurkers!! LOL

So far I've allready gotten one dude who stumbled across my blog searching for drunken woman videos...
great.... now I can add PERV Magnet to my title.....

Smooches!

Before my Godson was born...

Check out Amber's blog and read of a time where I convinced an entire Beer Bus that Amber was an unfit mother who was going to give her unborn child Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. (It really wasn't the case- she just needed an air conditioned seat while I got to drink booze) but we still enjoyed the dirty looks from people…
I told her to put the certificate she got afterwards in Therin's baby book..

As I remember the tale. We were at the County Fair early to catch Huey Lewis and the News ( He puts on a really good show. He's playing at the State Fair Again this year, I believe- I will have to go check that out). For some reason I didn't feel like embracing my redneck roots and wasn't up for hobnobbing with the Monster Truck folk.. So we walked around the fair seeing Darwin's model of evolution play out right in front of our very eyes. Like Bill Engvall has said, "I saw people there that could be their own DAD".

It was so hot that birds were falling from the sky fully cooked. Amber was very close to her due date and I was certain that she was going to "pop" at any minute. Every time she groaned or adjusted her position I screamed, "Is it TIME??". Her husband said I was more nervous than HE was! I was so amazed on how calm she was. She never complained. In that heat, being that preggers- I would have been a complete DIVA.

Finally I saw relief to that summer heat. I didn't see the whole title of the bus..
I just saw "BEER BUS".
It mentioned beer tasting! I suddenly heard a choir of angles sing "Hallelujah".`
I looked at Amber- gave her a wink.
Then I asked the guy out front
"Is it Air Conditioned in there?"
He said, "Yes mam, it is. But you have to sign this clipboard- everyone is allowed one visit only"
I looked back at Amber.
"It's a chance for you to cool off and rest your feet"
She hesitated
"But Anne, it's a BUDWEISER bus… you said Budweiser is the devil"
"I know.. But it's hot and at this point I'm not picky- it's free booze for me..a cool down for you…and think of the looks you'll get! You can put the certificate in the baby book! …. Sadly from the looks of the crowd, I bet you're not the only pregnant lady that's been in here today- but I bet you're the first responsible one that won't drink!"…

Her eyes sparkled at the thought of causing trouble.. She got a mischievous grin on her face.
"Let's do it- what the hell"

We walk in- we were some of the last people to come in. Just to be a real shit, I picked seats right in the middle where we would have to walk by people. Some gave looks, some gave her high fives!
One lady gasped and said, "I can't believe SHE would be in HERE!" - real snotty like.

I piped up, " What? Haven't you seen a knocked up woman drink before? Relax Lady, Sheesh!"

We sat and listened to some guy tell us how beer was made. Then it was time for the taste testing. They passed around 6 or 7 trays will little itty bitty cups… like the kind you make Jello Shots with… it maybe held two little sips of beer at the MOST.

I whispered to Amber-
"You're doctor told you you could have a taste of alcohol and it wouldn't hurt the baby right?"

She looked at me, "What in the hell are you planning, my dear?"

I said, "How adventurous are you?"

"Oh dear God- you're going to get us kicked out of here aren't you"

"No, the beer guy is watching us..he can see us…but the people behind us can't. If I take my sample- but leave two drops in it.. Enough for you to get your taste buds remembering what booze tastes like, you can knock it back and make it look like you're chugging it"

The beer guy overheard us and burst out laughing. He advised us we better not-lest a revolt. So Amber did take a sip to refresh her taste buds and we both got our certificates. I lost mine years ago. I had almost forgotten about that story until her post mentioned it..

The whole time she was pregnant with my Godson, I would talk into her tummy right to him. We didn't know he was a "He" yet- so I would just scream,
"HI BABY- THIS IS YOUR GODMOTHER- I CAN'T WAIT TO MEET YOU"

I would always yell into her stomach. Most of the time to embarrass her….because I would scream it at the top of my lungs.....
Things like:
"I love you"
"Your mommy's a whore"
"Daddy isn't hurting Mommy- they are just doing some 'Naked Wrestling'"
.....Stuff like that.

A few days after the concert- actually a few days before my Godson was born. We were cleaning out their old apartment and we were all on the floor taking a dinner break. Amber stood up (after a struggle), and her preggers tummy was right in my face so I took this as an open invitation for me to yell at the baby.

I yelled. "HI BAB……." and immediately started to laugh.

Amber just looked down at me, and said,
"You just realized you're screaming into my crotch-didn't you"

"yep" was all I could muster in between giggle fits.

That was the last time I got to yell into her tummy. My Godson was born a short time later, and I was living out of town when she was carrying her other two children.

It's funny the things you remember……

"Happy Period", My ASS!!!!

This was forwarded to me, so I know it's made the email rounds.. some of you may have seen it allready- but I think it's too funny not to post... besides- it accurately describes how I am feeling today...
Enjoy -

AN OPEN LETTER TO
MR. JAMES THATCHER,
BRAND MANAGER,
PROCTER & GAMBLE.
- - - -
Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years, and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the Leak Guard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your Revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi-pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from "the curse"? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my "time of the month" is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call "an inbred hillbilly with knife skills." Isn't the human body amazing?

As brand manager in the feminine-hygiene division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from Aunt Flo. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps.Crazy!

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants. Which brings me to the reason for my letter.

Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: "Have a Happy Period."

Are you fucking kidding me?

What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness - is possible during menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James?


FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy"about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.

For the love of God, pull your head out, man.

If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like,

"Put Down the Hammer"

or

"Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong"?

Or are you just picking on us?

Sir, please inform your accounting department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit.

And that's a promise I will keep.
Always.

Best,
Wendi Aarons
Austin, TX

Damn you, Q1!!

I have sat at my computer for two and a half days and I cannot think of anything to Top Q1's story of our lunch! Grrrrrrr.....

She and I are going to get together soon, and make a video to introduce you to my new friend LOLA- created one day out of boredom and 6 cups of coffee.. see her post to see a picture of LOLA since my work computer is giving me issues with adding a picture here- GRRRRRRR

So since I can't top her hysterical recount of our lunch- I will tell you of the time 7 years ago when she- after a night of dive bar hopping- passed out on my parents lawn.

She had a rough day. I was home for the summer after graduating college. She called me from the bay area where she commuted to work (a two hours drive from our hometown). She had a screaming match with her ex, lost her keys and was waiting for the locksmith to come and re key her car so she could go home(turns out her keys were in her console the whole time). She was in tears. So like any good friend, I told her to get a sitter and she was going to spend the night at my folks and we would get rip roaring drunk out on the town!

Our town was small- so we picked three dive bars and went and had a few drinks at each. The third and last bar was the skankiest hole I have ever seen (and being a dipsomaniac, I've been to quite a lot-lol). This is a bar that opens at 9 am and there is ALWAYS a few people just lined up waiting to get in...

We walk in and I immediately whisper to her- don't touch anything without washing your hands afterward. We find two seats at the bar and order drinks.

Two Rednecks suddenly get their eye on us. One we'll call "Bubba". He wore your typical redneck attire: Red plaid flannel shirt and camouflage hunting hat, belt buckle bigger than his head, cigarette dangling from his mouth, and four days worth o'stubble on his cheeks. His buddy was about two years younger than GOD and kept popping his dentures out and in, out and in (as if this was going to impress us). I call him "Ole Click Click".

They asked us our names and I (thinking quickly) immediately said,

"My name is Julia and this here is my friend, Sally."

There was No way in Hell these losers were going to know our real names. Actually I felt that I was hot shit coming up with Alias so damn quickly- lol

They asked us to play Liars dice. We obliged (as long as they were buying the drinks). About 7 drinks later- consumed rather quickly to avoid conversation with Bubba and Click Click- Bubba turns to me and asks me what I want for breakfast in the morning....

I start laughing out loud... until I realize he's being serious and wants me to come home with him.

EW EW EW EW EW EW EW EW -SCREAM- EW EW EW EW EW EW EW EW EW EW

I grab "Sally" and we get the hell out of there. We get in the car and drive about a half mile,when Q1 turns to me and says- I'm too tipsy and don't know where we are. I know exactly where we are since it was the old neighborhood where I grew up. I am feeling no pain, but can still drive (I realize now, BIG MISTAKE and am thankful we didn't get into an accident). We pull over and switch seats. I drive home. As we pull up to my parents house, I struggle trying to find the parking break. I turn to ask Q1 where the damn thing is located- only to find that she's no longer in the car. She is on my parents lawn. Ass end up and splayed out. I start yelling at her,

"My parents can NOT come home and find you on the lawn!!"

I somehow manage to get her and me into the house and tucked into bed....

The next day we were supposed to go to my Hee Haws and volunteer at my families Charity Softball Tournament. (I had an uncle who was a pretty damn good ball player- almost went pro- but was diagnosed with a brain tumor and died when I was five. Every year my cousins sponsor a softball tournament in his name and the proceeds go to a Cancer patient and their family)... We went- BUT Q1 SLEPT THE WHOLE DAMN TIME AND I HAD TO HOBNOB WITH MY HEE HAW RELATIVES BY MYSELF.... oh- did I mention she agreed to go with me so I wouldn't have to DO THAT... LOL

So there ya have it. Our Bubba and Click Click story. It's kinda sad that one of the few times I've ever been "hit on" was by Moses and his redneck twin... I guess it kind of scars you for life...