blackbird.jpg (30437 bytes)

2006-07-01 @ 1:00 a.m.
boys in the 'hood - - all different kinds


Its funny how when youíre alone youíre scared of everything, but when you get the tiniest bit of back-up, youíre suddenly kind of walking around all kind of Iím gonna kick yo mofo ass suckah! I had a bit of that yesterday and it was so funny to me, because I thought I had been magically transported into the Crazy Eyez Killa episode of ďCurb Your EnthusiasmĒ. As you know I have been literally cowering in my damn apartment for the last 10 days, because Iíve been afraid of running into Garden Hacker Boy. Iíve mainly been laying on the couch, with a scrunched up anxiety stomach watching DVDs, except when I had to go to work. And even then, it was like a mad secret agent dash to my car parked out by the library.

But last night I got a call on my caller ID and it was Roger, the guy who was supposed to come look at my car last weekend and never showed. My mom had found him at her complex and given him hell, so he said heíd be over Thursday night. So he called and said, ďIím here in your parking lot!Ē And I told him Iíd be down in a moment, since I had to turn off what I was cooking. So as I rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps, I saw two things simultaneously. Garden Hacker Boy furiously hacking at some tiny bush right at the top of the stairs, right in my path, glaring down at....the other thing I saw: Three large Black men and a women looking at my car. They had already opened the car door and were looking inside and I immediately knew what Hacker Boy was thinking.....

CALL THE POLICE....THEREíS BLACK PEOPLE STEALING A CAR!!!!!!!!!

Stupid dickhead. I felt like saying, ďAnd if you ever call the cops on me again, youíll be talking to The Brothahs.Ē But I decided to let sleeping dogs lie and went down at greeted Roger. He is one of the funniest people I have ever met. Great sense of humor. He had brought his friend Al, and his son and daughter presumably. I let Al drive the Ford Tempo of Doom around the parking lot since it doesnít have any plates on it. But when I happened to glance back up towards the apartments, Hacker Boy was totally glaring down at us, like clipclipclipclip. Black people in MY parking lot. clipclipclipclip. Ya see, the Village is a pretty lily white place to live, so I rather enjoyed hanging out with the homies in the parking lot. After Al took his test ride, we were looking into the creek at the duck and her 12 babies. The teenage girl had never seen baby ducks before and Roger kept making jokes about how good roast duck would taste on a rotisserie. I socked him in the arm. By then the Mad Hacker was clipping so angrily that there were nearly sparks flying out and for some reason, that made me feel not scared for the first time in about 10 days. He finally disappeared.

Roger said theyíd come back tonight, but unfortunately he didnít show up. I am very disappointed. Iím only selling the car for $300 with a probable drop to $250. The car still runs. It has a gazillion new parts. I just spent $124 on it a month ago. Buy the damn thing why donít you. So weíll see. (*Editor's note: The guy will be coming Saturday to buy my car. YAY!!!)

I did put off my daily walk until about 8:05 even though Roger had said heíd be here by about 6. I gave him a 2 hour lee-way, but I really wanted to get a walk in, since it was very nice out and I wanted to get out of the house for at least a two mile walk before dark. So I headed down Walnut and walked by Harold the Geekís house. Heís the one who had stopped in over the weekend, with the Republican voting paperwork. I always walk down that hill first, and then curve up to Hamburger Island. But tonight because I was so energetic, I even walked all the way downtown and then back around the back way to my apartment complex to avoid Hacker Boy, since he had been working on that side of the building today. Ack.

When I walked up to my screen door there was a little green slip of paper stuck in the door. My stomach immediately seized up. I figured I was getting some kind of angry hate mail from you know who. Because I remember the last time I had a piece of paper stuck on my front door, it was out in California. I came out of my apartment and there was a note that read: ďIf you ever bang on my wall again, I will kill you.Ē Ha! Yes, Iíve had so many lovely apartment neighbors over the years. I had been living next to this young girl who blasted her stereo from 6:30 in the morning until midnight or later. I finally couldnít take it anymore after about two months, so I banged on the wall twice with my fist. Bang. Bang. And then came the death threat.

PLEASE GOD. PLEASE LET ME BE A HOME OWNER SOMEDAY!!

So anyways, I gingerly took the note out of the door, but the print was so tiny I had to bring it in and look at it with my glasses. It read: ďDear witty, I was here (8:21 P.M. 6/30/2006) You werenít. Talk to you later? Harold the Geek.

WTF?? A Republican seeking the company of a liberal hippy who paints nudes!?!! Oh people, if only you knew how odd this coupling would be. Think Truman Capote and Janis Joplin having brunch together. I mean, I donít think Harold is gay, but heís so persnickety and odd and of course, thereís the safari outfit-wearing thing. And just the fact that he felt the need to put the year ď2006Ē on his note, like I wouldnít know, tells you a little about him. And the fact that he's carrying a pencil and a pad of paper? Geek alert! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!

Well, Iíd like to write a little note of my own now...

Dear ďAĒ: Wow, youíre on vacation, but in a way, youíre not, huh? Harold the Geek leaving a note on my door....Thatís your doing, isnít it? I liked how you pretended like I was way too hot for a geek like him the last time I saw you. And I didnít quite get what you were saying and you had to explain it, because, well, you know me and all those drugs I did in the 1970ís. And then we laughed about it.

Because I just.donít.buy Harold coming down to my apartment on his own. I just donít. He's too timid. We couldnít be more different ďAĒ, and you know it! I mean, having neurotic behaviors in common, just isnít something you can build a relationship on. Youíve seen enough Woody Allen movies to know that. One neurotic in a relationship is problematic. Two would make the Neurotic Olympics. And donít you remember my very specific request? No ill people. I want someone healthy. Isnít that why you always steered me away from Charlemagne? Because he was trouble? I already have two guys at work who have crushes on me at the moment. TWO. Both of them with mental health diagnosis. But Iím not interested in them. I want someone healthy.

So I guess Iíll just wait and see. See if Safari-Hal comes a knockiní at my door tomorrow. And see whether heíll be dressed in his khaki safari shorts and white knee socks and slouch cloth hat and coke bottle glasses. And Iíll be dressed in a black tank top, tight jeans, pentacle necklace and round John Lennon glasses. Itíll be great. I just wonder if weíll be able to figure out what we have in common besides you...Yenta.



6 comments so far << | >>

Older Entries
upsy, downsy, upsy, splat! - 2010-05-22
April sours bring May flowers? - 2010-05-01
when finding a head in the recycling bin is the highlight of your month - 2010-03-28
fifty two chances to be awesome...ok maybe - 2010-02-20
its sorta like "Grease" except there's no musical numbers and I'm really old - 2010-02-05

host

Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty

>