The person I am writing this about is not the subject of the story. I simply needed the story to illustrate why that person made me angry this morning.
When I lived in Burlington, Vermont, there was a woman who lived next door to me with her boyfriend and their small son. The wall couldn’t have been more paper thin if I had lived in a genuine house made of paper.
For an entire year, this bitch was one of the most inconsiderate people I had ever known. Not more than two weeks into my moving in, she and her boyfriend had an explosive argument at sometime around midnight. I know it was around midnight, because I was asleep and I needed to be home in the morning. But these two were at it and the woman actually stormed out of her apartment and started pounding on my door to let her in.
Eventually one of the other tenants called the police. (Trust me, there was nothing remotely violent happening and trust me when I say that the woman was the instigator the entire time. I know because I could hear every word)
A month or so later, I had to be awake in the morning again. And from midnight to 2:30 in the morning, there was big rap battle going on. Does anyone remember that scene from Catwoman, where Halle Barry’s character went catshit (see what I did there?) all over the guys in the next apartment who were blaring loud music when she was trying to sleep? This was what I had gone through that very night and I didn’t have any superhero cat powers.
But for an entire year, I never, said, anything. ONCE.
Then one day in the July of that year, I came home with a heavy box of groceries in my arms. I was sweating my balls off and walking up two flights of stairs and trust me when I say, I couldn’t close the door to my apartment quietly with my arms so full. So it slammed.
I put the box on the kitchen table and there was a knock at the door. Daryll and Minneka were staying with me at the time and Minneka was good enough to answer the door for me. Lo and behold, the lady from next door was there with her child in tow.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but hear the door slam and I was wondering if it was because [Me, the neighbor] was angry at my son for making noise.”
Of course. Don’t you know that the world revolves around you? It makes perfect sense that since you were the one being so loud and annoying for an entire year, that your small child must be the reason that I couldn’t use my telekinesis or my third fucking arm to close the door quietly. I guess that means you were mad and angry at me when you and your rap party buddies were over here that one time, or when you pounded on my door while you were shouting at your boyfriend… with your son in the same fucking apartment.
People wonder why I have spent so much time on this blog and this is it. If I make a mistake, people seem all too quick to point it out. Or if they think I’m too stupid to live, they’ll quickly remind me how to breathe. But it’s always these same people who are completely oblivious or otherwise unconcerned with how they themselves behave or are perceived by the people they encounter.
I would be the dick if I kept pointing it our or complaining, so I keep my mouth shut, but that doesn’t let you off the hook. If you’re going to point out the bone fragments in my closet (real or imagined) I’m going to break the padlock off of yours and show you where your skeletons have been hiding.