She Flipped Me the Bird!

‘Twas a very busy day: contractors, laundry and the roofers showed up a day early.

The roofers came with a large flatbed truck, with a boom to load shingles up on the rooftop. This meant we had to scramble to have the tenants move all cars out of the lot, and luckily, most were at work, but just the same, who wants to be hustled to jockey cars around on your day off?

While Al and I were standing on the deck watching the foreman wave his truck in, women in a SUV drove up, asked to be let into the parking lot as, “They were only dropping off.” And the foreman obliged.

I knew the SUV; they are friends of a difficult tenant. The request to pull in was not an issue, however, the passenger glaring at me as they drove in, then twisting her head around to continue staring at me was bizarre.

As they backed out, the passenger was still staring as she passed me, her hands laying across her belly, I saw her repeatedly flick her middle finger. There was no mistaking the grin on her face and her hand gesture. I leaned over to Al and laughed, “She flipped me the bird!”

The driver stopped short, her passenger rolled down her window and began shouting, “I was talking to my friend! Aren’t I allowed to talk to my friend? You got a problem with that?!”

Whoa!

SUV pulled forward, yelling.

SUV backed up, more yelling.

Me, thinking: “You weren’t talking, you flipped me the bird!”

Obviously she wanted to pick a fight: with her window rolled up, she could not possibly have heard what I said to Al. Since her lips did not move until she began yelling and cursing at me, I must assume that she and her friend communicate telepathically, unless of course, repeatedly flicking a middle finger was a new kind of sign language for the driver to read.

As she threw her car back into reverse, I replied, “Birds of a feather flock together.” Translation, you are friends with the most complained about tenant; your behavior is no surprise.

While backing out of the lot, the driver almost plowed into a car driving down the street.

Shucks, I would have enjoyed being an eyewitness for the police and insurance adjusters.

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A while later, a tenant who had witnessed the great bird flip off, asked if I ‘was okay?’ and ‘who were those people?’ I mentioned the name. I heard the eye roll through the phone.

There’s a Teenager Back in the House!

My brother-in-laws’s great-grandson has come for a visit, and Wow! the similarities to my own son when he was a teenager makes me laugh, and groan.

The two young men have many things in common: both real smart, interests all over the globe and questions I don’t get (back then or now), my son was glued to the sports channel and the telephone, this one to the Internet and iPhone.

My son has completed 10 years of military service, this one is going in: Smart choices for both, but scary with the world in continuous turmoil.

Now to be clear, I do enjoy his company…but he is 18. The only cure for 18 is 25.

And the following is just a humorous list of what a teenager brings to any house.

They take up a lot of room!

Not kidding: shoes, jackets, towels, power cords (and the attached electronics) are strewn from the front door, all the way through to the bathroom.

We have a sofa and a big lounge chair: He extends the lounge chair all the way, foot rest extended, then lays on the sofa and uses the chair as his foot rest.

Food

What is there to eat? My son could eat a box of Coco Puffs a day, this one devours bread.

I rarely buy snacks such as potato chips, cakes and only a few cookies. Snacks are a piece of fruit or crackers with cheese, or the best…peanut butter and jelly. He will adapt.

Dinner?

I am not a restaurant. If I give a choice of meals, rest assured, what was not chosen for tonight’s meal will be served tomorrow night.

Meals will not be held until one is finished playing a video game.

Sleep

Ok, teens stay up all night, sleep all day, I remember that. However, it is amazing that the sound of the mouse clicking on a video game can actually wake me up. In the morning, I do kick him off the sofa and send him to his Grandpa’s bedroom. He needs to sleep and I need my living room.

Multi-Purposing

Placing his laptop on top of my laptop on my desk is NOT multi-purposing! I found one of those tables with wheels that slide under a chair and set up his own station.

He borrowed my mouse. I found another just for him.

He appropriated my mouse pad: Since I couldn’t find a spare pad in my computer junk drawer, he was out of luck, I took mine back.

Power cords are a life-saver with multiple electronics added to the home.

But the Bonus: Chores

Yaaay, he takes out the trash! When my son moved out a dozen years ago, I had to do this myself. I HATE carrying out the trash!

He does carry the laundry basket down a flight of stairs to the laundry room, and back up again. (In all fairness, laundry has nearly doubled this week.)

He helped me clean out the dreaded Machine Room. It is the furnace and workroom, full of tools, spare parts, A/Cs, shovels, rakes, heck, the shebang is down there. Frankly, I have been putting off cleaning this room, but with a young man who can haul out old windows, scrap wood and general junk, the room was put back together in a very short while.

He hauled all the planters to the back of the building.

The bags of Ice Melt were dragged out, poured into buckets and tubs, and now we are ready for winter ice and snow.

He does say, ‘Thank you.’ He also gives hugs.

The Great Cat Litter Trail:The Grinch Struck Again

At the base of the main, front stairwell was a large pool of cat litter;

• It traveled down the last two stairs;
• It continued down the sidewalk
• The culprit paused in front of the rock garden, and left a plant food packet (the kind the florist gives to put in a vase);
• The trail of cat litter continued down the sidewalk;
• It meandered over the parking lot, to the side of the dumpster enclosure;
• It ended inside the enclosure.

One has to wonder?

Who in the middle of the night, would waste a 1–2 bags of cat litter to painstakingly pour out a trail 3¬4” wide and 50’ long?

Since I had spent 2 days working in the rock garden, under the feature wall, the florist plant food packet left there, perhaps was a message for me?

Was this the work of the Infamous Garden Grinch who has been ripping plants out, and who has been seen planting cigarette butts in the gardens and flowerpots?

Later, several of us were standing at the end of the driveway, chatting and laughing, someone from the back of the parking lot, up on the third floor demanded that we stop talking about her.

Really, as your name was NOT mentioned and you were more than 50’ away, could not possible hear the conversation, one has to wonder about your guilt.

My reply: “I don’t take orders from you,” and we all walked away, still laughing.

Guilt confirmed. Someone needs to get over themselves, get a job, get a grip, and get a life.

Ya Can Take the Cat out of the Jungle, But Can’t Take the Jungle Out of the Cat!

This is my mighty hunter perched on the windowsill, with her head through the cat door flap, surveying her territory. Five pounds of Queen of the Apartment Complex.

Yes, my kitty reverted to her jungle roots once again. She burst through her little cat door in the window with a bird in her mouth.

I yelled and threw my jacket at her.

It worked—she dropped the bird.

I chased the cat and actually caught her then walked out the front door and onto the deck still clutching her in my arms.

Now what do I do with her!?

My neighbors saw me, asked what I was doing, and when I told them about the bird, they laughed at me. I threatened to toss her over the railing, but no one believed me.

Still clutching the cat, I went back inside and spotted the bird now fluttering around the furniture. The cat went nuts trying to get out of my arms. I tossed the cat in the bathroom and firmly closed the door.

Al and I are now cheering for the non-dead bird flitting around the living room and laughing at the cat yowling from behind the bathroom door.

The poor bird finally found its way out through the open storm door. I watched it fly down into the parking lot. It was stunned, but it did fly away to safety.

We let the cat out of the bathroom and laughed as she hunted around the furniture, sniffing behind every piece of furniture and knick-knack that the bird had landed upon. It really was amazing to wonder just how the cat only checked the places that the bird had been. Just how much scent could that bird have left in just the few moments of flitting around the room and briefly landing on random furniture?

And the cat actually sulked for a few days. She would NOT come near either of us. Did not want us to pet her, would not answer when we called.

But don’t worry, a few days later she found a mouse.

Sigh.

Winter Storm Names 2014-15

The following is from the Weather Channel, www.weather.com. They have again chosen 25 names to be used for storms in the 2014-2015. Their web site even has a challenge to vote on the name for “W”: Warren, Wilda, Willie, Woden or Wolf.

Ocean Effect Snow !?!?

Today was a Nor’easter called Damon, pretty easy on Central Jersey, but did wreak havoc everywhere else, including airlines. It had the usual: high winds, biting cold and torrential rain, and SNOW! It also gave us the new term Ocean Effect Snow!? I even Googled it and I think the weather people are just screwing with us.

Astro (as-tro) – In Greek, it means star.

Bozeman – In honor of the Miss Shupe’s Bozeman High School Latin class, which provided the 2013-2014 list of winter storm names.

Cato (cay-to) – The name of a Roman statesman and his great-grandson, who were both known for integrity.

Damon (day-mon) – From Greek mythology; known for his loyalty.

Eris (air-is) – From Greek mythology; the goddess of discord.

Frona (froh-na) – Greek, short for Sofronia; related to the word for wise.

Gorgon (gore-gon) – From Greek mythology, one of three monsters; serpentine humanoids.

Hektor (hek-tor) – From Greek mythology, the Trojan champion who was killed by Achilles.

Iola (eye-oh-la) – From Greek mythology, a variant spelling of Iolë, a beautiful woman who Hercules wanted to marry, but could not.

Juno (joo-no) – From Roman mythology, a goddess who looked after the women of Rome.

Kari (care-ey) – A Finnish name derived from the Greek name Makarios from old-Greek meaning blessed or happy.

Linus (ly-nus) – From Greek Mythology, a son of Apollo known as a great musician.

Marcus (mar-cuss) – An Ancient Roman name referring to Mars, the god of war.

Neptune (nep-toon) – From Roman mythology, the god of the sea.

Octavia (ok-tay-vee-a) – The sister of the first Roman Emperor, Augustus, who was also known as Octavian.

Pandora (pan-door-a) – From Greek mythology, the first human woman created by the gods.

Quantum (kwan-tom) – From the Latin word quantus, meaning how much.

Remus (ree-mus) – From Roman mythology, one of the founding brothers of Rome, along with Romulus.

Sparta (spar-ta) – Prominent Greek city that was the principal enemy of Athens during the Peloponnesian War.

Thor (thor) – From Scandinavian mythology, god of thunder and rain.

Ultima (uhl-tee-ma) – From Latin, feminine version of ultimus meaning last, furthest, final.

Venus – From Roman mythology, the goddess of love.

W ??? – Help us choose! Take the poll on this page.

Xander (zan-der) – Dutch form of Latin name, Alexandrus.

Yuli (you-lee) – Basque for the Latin name, Julius.

Zelus (zell-us) – From Greek mythology, personifies dedication, envy, jealousy, and zeal.

Respect the Handicapped Placard!

For those of you who live out of the United States (and I thank you for browsing), those people who are legitimately handicapped, may order a blue placard to hang from the car’s rear view mirror. This will entitle the driver to use specially marked parking spaces by the front door. These spaces are clearly marked with bright blue lines and a large sign warning of fines and community service.

And yes, when the police officer pulls up and questions you for parking there, faking a limp will not help.

However these parking privileges are for those who are handicapped, not for the entitled idiot driving the car. This includes those who grab the best spots, because the ‘driver’ NOT the handicapped person, doesn’t feel like walking. So they use the spots and leave some helpless person to fend for themselves.

That being said…

I pulled into a local business and spotted a healthy woman walking away from a car parked in the handicapped spot. Yes, the tag was there, but I was curious.

Inside the business, the woman turned to me and began chatting.

Drat, I knew her. SHE is NOT handicapped, her husband is, however, he was not with her. She has always complained about her weight, well maybe walking just a little farther will help her walk the fat off her butt!

My Cousin

Several years ago, my cousin (who has secondary Polio) told me a great story about a sports car that took up 2 handicapped spots outside a restaurant.

So when my cousin legally parked in the only 2 handicapped spots, he blocked the entitled idiot in!

The offender loudly complained to the manager, that he only came in to use the payphone, and that WHOEVER blocked him must move their car NOW!

My cousin and his friend enjoyed a leisurely breakfast while watching the entitled driver attempt to maneuver his car around my cousin’s car.

Score one for the good guys.

Sadly, this will not be the only post on those who abuse this privilege.

Cat Tech Support

Pets are like 2-year-olds: they either try to help or just need to under your feet and be center of your world.

It had been a frustrating day trying to hook up new computer equipment and it did not go well. Then after a lengthy conversation with the cable company’s tech support, they admitted that they sent the wrong equipment! Even the Tech Support guy was annoyed that they keep shipping this equipment. AAAARRGH!

However, EVERY cable, EVERY component had to be re-packaged and returned, and sadly, all these pieces were mixed in with my cables, cords and even my old Linksys box.

Everything was spread over the bed, and a friend was helping me re-sort and re-package the mess.

And the cat wanted to help.

We threw her off the bed.

She came back.

She batted at the cords as we wound them up.

She knocked the little boxes to the floor.

I wanted to box HER UP! She is NOT cute anymore. Sigh.

She just needed to remind us that she is in charge.

BoBo, More than a Pet

Such sad news, this has taken me over a month to post. Last month was the end for BoBo, my Lab/Rotweiller mix.

He had the bark and waggle of a Rottweiler, but the face and heart of a Lab. So much more than a pet, he was the apartment building's mascot, followed me into every unit while working and supervised me while working in the gardens. That was his favorite, laying in the front yard while watching the world stroll by. Whenever anyone walked down the block, he would wag and smile at them like they were his best friends, however at 100 pounds, many people would cross the street.

He was a self-walking dog, as we caught him many times pushing the storm door open, trotting downstairs to do his thing, then pulling the storm door back open and flopping on the rug beside me, but sometimes, he would just stroll outside and lay on the deck to peruse his domain. Although sometimes while he was supposed to be helping me out back, he would become bored and stroll home on his own, sparking a few panic phone calls to see if he arrived home.

He would chase a tennis ball forever. He knew which cabinet the new can of tennis balls was kept in and would freeze, studying my every move, hoping that I would open the can and give him a new tennis ball.

One night his hips simply collapsed and we knew it was time to let him go. God bless my neighbors, as EVERY man I texted for help, responded immediately: Two of them carefully carried him down to my car in a sling made from my sheets and gently placed him in the backseat of my car.

The last morning when I let him out, he was so bad! He walked around the fence around the front yard, and strolled on my lawn (he was banned from there), smelled all the flowers and I swear he peed on the No Doggie sign, then he leapt over the mini fence and walked back up the stairs as if to say, “I still got it!”

On his last morning he dined on hotdogs, Burger King (including onion rings), peanut butter (his favorite), and lots of cookies. If I had fudge in the house, he would have had that too!

Pets steal our hearts and rule our homes. What a blessing they are!

Happiness is a Choice

It’s true, what you focus on, is what you get. For some people not only is the glass half full, but SOMEONE is to blame for it!

This is a wonderful little neighborhood: Some great amateur gardeners, and a plethora of dog walkers invite conversations. We may not remember all the names, but we sure enjoy all the critters.

Many months ago, someone brought the house across the street, and we all were hopeful as the house had been vacant a long time. However, all attempts at conversation with them fell flat, even with their contractors. For example: They were unloading lumber and tools, and so were we…an obvious conversation opportunity, but nada, not ever. Even the mailman couldn’t get a hello. So sad.

Our dumpster sits in the front part of the parking lot and it had taken quite a beating over the winter, plus it was tapped a few times by the garbage truck drivers, so the gates didn’t always close properly. A new dumpster enclosure was ordered, but until it was installed, I used bungee cords to prop the gates open.

Apparently this highly irritated our grumpy new neighbor.

Rude Dude: As I was working outside he came over and demanded if I was the manager.

Me thinking: Of course you know that. Who else do you see dragging out recyclables, unloading massive Home Depot building supplies (doors, windows, lumber, etc.), and working in the lot with contractors?

Me speaking: “Yes, I am.”

Rude Dude: Irritated, as the view of our dumpster while drinking his morning coffee on his porch, disgusted him.

Me thinking: You and I live 100 yards from the Atlantic Ocean, surrounded by gorgeous roses, sunflowers, lavender and happy beach-goers, and all you focus on is this dumpster? Get a grip!

Rude Dude: Gave me an ultimatum. He would not complain to the township if I fixed it by a certain date!

He was trying to intimidate me?! Get over thyself! He didn't even state his name!

Me asked: “Sir, my name is ____, what is yours?”

Rude Dude: He answered.

Me: “I’ll pass the message on to my boss.” And walked away.

He has also corrected some women tenants to close the gates: Misogynist idiot, you don't speak to the male tenants like that!

The dumpster has been replaced with nice shiny gates, however, I have been known some mornings, to leave both gates wide open as I give a world-class cleaning to the enclosure. He and his buddies then stand on their porch, hands on hips, clutching their coffee cups while glaring at me.

It doesn’t make me work faster.

Sunflowers R.I.P.

So sad, these two ginormous sunflower trees have delighted and amazed all who passed by and admired them; many used them for photo ops. It was grand to see them every single time I came back home.

They were over 8’ tall, and so laden with flowers, that we tied them to the railings, and then we had to adjust those ties frequently. But, alas, despite our care, one toppled over and snapped at the base. The stalk was over an inch in diameter.

At the far right, you can see that I dropped my purse and packages on the sidewalk, surveyed the damaged and just snapped a quick pix or two.

Then I went upstairs, grabbed scissors and salvaged as many flowers as possible.

Wow, they do look spectacular around the home: I even passed out some flowers to a few neighbors.

These flower heads have a whole lot of seeds. The ones with black seeds are standard sunflowers, one flower per stalk. The others are from the massive ‘trees’ that have a dozen or more flowers per stalk.

I am saving them, passing around the neighborhood. Can’t wait to see what will grow next Spring!

Flowers in the Neighborhood

Fortunately, the tenants on both sides of us are allowed to plant and dress up their little piece of heaven on the Jersey Shore. Here are some of them:

When I asked just when did he plant that gorgeous flower, he laughed and said 3 years ago, but it just looked like a stick...until he ran it over with his lawnmower! Guess that flower decided that if it wanted to live, it better do something spectacular: And it sure did.

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My neighbor's sunflowers, dwarfs compared to mine, but they are a beautiful and solid wall of yellow bordering her yard.

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Roses LAST year

Roses THIS year! We are so planting more of these!

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Planters are doing very well!

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This last one just for fun. It was gift was from one of our workers (Diane), and it always makes me smile to see it.

How to Deal with (Some, Just Some) Difficult People

This trick will not work with those irrational fools who drive us to fantasies of pitching them off roof tops. Not worth the jail time.

Heed the words of a wise man who wrote Proverbs 29:9, “Do not contend with a fool, the fool will either rage or laugh, and there will be no peace!” (paraphrased)

But I digress, again.

At your next business function, wedding, funeral or reunion, to deflect negative attention, after the initial hug or handshake, The Trick is to ask THEM a slew of questions:

• You look fantastic! How’s the new job? (add, you really deserved that promotion, knew you had skills, it’s about time your hard work paid off);
• Great shoes, where did you buy them? (dress, hair, jewelry, whatever vanity hits);
• How’s the kids, grandkids? (that could take a looong time);
• So how was your vacation? (even longer time).

Get THEM to talk about themselves, ooh and aah at the right moments, keep flipping the subject back to THEM, then when they finally walk away, THEY will think you are wonderful!

Because unless you have said something brilliant, or really foolish, after the first few moments, it is all about THEM! Keep them talking about themselves: remember they may also have problems they don't want to discuss.

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Our lives can change in a flash: divorce, job loss, health issues, whatever hardship, can make us want to avoid social encounters and any questions about us. But hey, you don’t gotta explain a thing to anyone. Put on your best duds, remember what you are worth, what you have accomplished, and remember to smile!

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My neighbor was apprehensive about her high school reunion. She was nervous as serious health issues had drained all their resources, plus she had gained weight and she was dreading the ‘comparisons’ with the imaginary successes of everybody else.

I gave her that advice, practiced it with her, then reminded her of all that she is now, then urged her to smile, and to just enjoy a night out with her husband.

The next day she came back and thanked me for that simple advice. People were so glad to see her, memories were shared and her anxiety evaporated.

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Give people a chance to surprise you.

And for those jerks who comment on your weight, just reply, “Better the fat on my ass than yours between the ears.”

Sunflowers!

This past winter was so hard on my front rock garden: not only did my beautiful rose bushes die, but the bushes that I had planted to protect them from the ocean winds shriveled up too. So sad.

But we have a husband/wife team doing a bit of work around here, and the wife (Diane) took it upon herself to replant the front rock garden. Before I even knew it, she had dragged pots of flowers from home, moved around a mountain of stones, and then planted lots of stuff. I don’t even know the names of all this stuff, but I am amazed at what has been growing…7 foot tall Sunflowers!

Aren’t they gorgeous?! Diane is even jealous, the ones she gave me outshine the ones she kept at home!

Strangers are stopping by to admire, even the road crew from the gas company had walked over to check them out.

They just love the Salt Air!

Another (Self-Righteous) Electric Thief

This tenant acted like an Eagle Scout, and wound really tight: A strict, no-holds-barred against those who crossed the line.

Guess who repeatedly crossed the line? No surprise.

One day the cops followed him home, with a drug dog. However, no arrests, no shiny silver bracelets, and never an explanation.

Eagle Scout badge slightly tarnished.

But I digress: this is about stealing electric.

Eagle Scout called: “angry that his power was out.”

Me: “Check your fuse box. Flip the switches.”

Trick didn’t work; I went down to his apartment. It was cold outside, there are NO inside hallways.

He is angry. Of course, we are to blame.

I walked back out into the cold, down the walkway, down a flight of stairs, back down the walkway to the furnace room.

There was a yellow tag on his meter. Hmmmm?

I flipped it and called him.

No luck.

I went back upstairs only to hear him complain to me (my fault of course), and then angrily he called the power company.

Ooops! He never put the power on in his name.

Oooops! You were clearly told by me when you looked at the apartment, reminded when you paid your security, reminded when you moved in: “You must put the electric in YOUR name!” Tenants PAY for their Electric!

Thank you. It was cold. I got a free Stairmaster workout, again.

Did he apologize for stealing 3 months of power? For being rude and accusing me of incompetence?

I called the Business Manager, he owes someone money.

He moved out a year later, not missed, and was not even nice when he left. And that is another story.

So I Tapped Your Bumper

It was a long traffic light, made even longer as a train had just pulled into the station at the end of the block.

• Yeah, I thought I had a chance to sip my fresh and hot Dunkin coffee.
• The lid was loose,
• hot coffee splashed on my thigh,
• knee-jerk reaction pulled my foot off the brake.

At idle speed, my car rolled into the car in front of me.

First thoughts were: Crap, that hot coffee on my leg hurts!

Second thought: Crap, these are new khaki slacks, oil from coffee will stain.

Third thought: I hit a car?!

Threw the car into reverse, backed up a foot and jumped out of the car to survey the bumpers and to apologize to the driver.

Driver and friend of that car jumped out and began screaming obscenities!

Whoa! There was no damage. This was not a ‘whiplash’ quality bumper tap. The car was doing Idle Speed: 3 mph! Mind your manners.

I apologized, explained that hot coffee had splashed on my leg.

Both young women screamed more $%##@ insults.

I showed them said coffee stain on slacks.

More insults: “Well you are still driving, you should be careful!”

My car traveled less than 2 feet at idle speed, this was a non-issue.

I repeated, “Hot Coffee!” and got back in my car. Then I noticed the dealership tags on their license plate, they’re from Fair Lawn, NJ. And I thought: “This is why locals hate bennies. Too many tourists leave their manners at home.”

May it rain on potty-mouth’s vacation.

The NJ Gas Company Made a Boo-Boo!

I woke up this morning to the glorious sound of jackhammers, again. The Gas Company had been laying new lines across this town, but I have been assured, reassured and confirmed, that when they do shut the gas off:

• The company will inform us ahead of time so that the tenants would be prepared. They even confirmed exactly WHERE the shut off valve was located at my building.
• Assured me that a qualified team of workers will come out and personally light each and every stove, furnace and water heater in this apartment complex.
• I had NOTHING to worry about!

Is anyone familiar with Murphy’s Law?

To set the background properly, I have been derailed by a Summer Cold. The only cure is to buy a bottle of liquid Dayquil, insert straw and sip all day to keep symptoms at bay. This job does not allow sick days. If something is broke, it gotta be fixed regardless of how crappy I feel. Sigh.

But back to the Gas Company. They had been working in front of the building next door. They did not alert me, I wasn’t concerned…until I got the first and second calls from tenants about the smell of gas and their stoves being out.

Do you know what happens when you call the Gas Company’s Emergency Line? The recorded message warns you, that In Case of Gas Leak, call the Emergency Line and it gives the very same #$r%%# number to call, followed by a recorded list of ‘your party’s extension.’ Aaaargggh!

I left the phone call problem to my brother-in-law and grabbed all the keys, a big stick lighter and began the hunt thru EVERY apartment for unlit stoves.

People! Gas stoves leaking gas into apartments, some with kids and pets, kinda freaked me out!

3 flights of stairs. 26 units. I should have legs like a gymnast.

Lighting the stove top pilot lights are not a problem, it is the friggin’ oven pilot light that sucks. One has to lie on the floor, stick a lighter all the way in the back of the broiler while turning the gas on! Those burners have been known to PUFF a lot of flames really fast. I value the hair on my arms, eyebrows and eyelashes.

To NJ Natural Gas: A 2-hour response to a gas emergency is NOT acceptable.

Gratefully the Gas worker who responded is a neighbor from the next building. The Gas Company actually told him that they turned the gas off to HIS building, not ours. Remarkable, since HIS building is total electric, not one gas line anywhere. Yippee.

So, NJ Natural Gas I gotta ask:

• Your records state that you turned off the gas to a Total Electric Building, yet, your crack team of Stove Re-lighters did not see fit to check that their stoves, water heaters and furnaces were re-lit in said building. Oops.
• It took over 2 hours for someone to respond! We have children and pets in apartments with UNLIT gas stoves. I was a tad concerned.

PS: There have been people, over the years, which have griped or bragged, that they could do my job better. Yeah, come spend a day, lying on some not-too-clean kitchen floors lighting pilot lights. I still have a crappy summer cold. I took another shower. I wrote this blog. It was cathartic.

Are You One of the 25% Who Can Decipher This?

Just a little fun:

Can you read this? Supposedly only 1 in 4 people can do it. The less you concentrate the easier it is to do it.

Y0UR N3W P455W0RD G3N3R4T0R?

Courtesy of Wititudes.com.

You Might be a Pig if . . .

Some evictions are just ugly and beyond description: The bathroom and hallway smelled like death, tenants who walked by the open door were appalled at the stench polluting the outside.

But if you need 2 rolls of these:

Plus over 3 dozen cleaning rags;

A gallon of Clorox Cleanup;

Plus a gallon of Odorban (a cleaner generally used after a flood or sewer backup), as the floors and walls had to be scrubbed down.

Although it looked like the fridge had been scrubbed out, but when I picked up the lower shelf, I literally broomed out all the packages of ketchup, sauce and b.s. he spitefully crammed under there.

He was a hoarder, did a bit of dumpster-diving, then dragged those nasty treasures home and dumped them still wet on the carpet in his bedroom. The workers had to use gloves and masks when they removed those carpets.

The fire extinguisher was bone dry?! When we saw the dozens of cigarette burns in the rugs in ALL the rooms and hallway, well, scary speculations ensued.

The coup de grace

He demanded his full security back. No Kidding! He blamed his guests for those damages, so he was NOT responsible for them.

Cannot make this stuff up. So very sad. But the new tenant holds great promise.

Yikes! A Stalkarazzi!

As I often have written, some days my job feels more like a schoolyard Playground Monitor than a professional building manager. Gratefully most of the malcontents have moved on and we usually enjoy quiet days. And I have lived long enough to not fret over every one liking me, heck, in some cases, all I can say is, “Whew!”

Dear Sour Grapes:

A person I have nicknamed Sour Grapes have left quite a few vulgar and vicious comments, forcing me to monitor all comments—and this blog was supposed to be about humor and the good life at the Jersey Shore.

My Rebuttal:

First read the post on “Difficult People,” then the one on the “Death of Common Sense.” Dwell upon those words of wisdom.

Next, use the Spellcheck feature in Word: “Frijit B*tch” is misspelled. BTW, it also will check your grammar and flag your over-use of !!!!!!! ????!!!! Although Spellcheck will not catch your mistakes of mixing genders, as NO ONE would ever mistake me for a guy: referring to me as “he” is a glaring error.

Please avail yourself of the many free, on-line writing courses and learn how to effectively express yourself without resorting to the over-use of expletives, plus such courses should build up your deplorably limited vocabulary.

I did previously offer free editing services for your many diatribes.

Anger Management counseling is strongly advised.

In Conclusion:

You should take the advice of the Apostle Paul, a man born into great wealth, who had attained several elite political and religious positions, then forsook it all to itinerate as a preacher and tent maker. He wrote, “I have experienced times of need and times of abundance. In any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of contentment, whether I go satisfied or hungry, have plenty or nothing.” (Philippians 4:12 NET) Hint: He wrote a lot of the New Testament, ya know, the Bible.

P.S.: Either one is part of the problem, or part of the solution, please feel free to pack up your toxic psyche and move on down the road. I will light a candle and say a Novena for your next set of neighbors.

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To Everyone Else: Thank you for letting me vent. I promise you, I have lots of fun stories left to tell, they will be posted very soon!

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Death of Common Sense

A friend posted this on FaceBook, and I don’t care how many times that this has gone around in emails, posts, Likes, whatever. It just bears repeating.

Today, we grieve for our beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:

• Life isn't always fair;
• Knowing when to come in out of the rain;
• Why the early bird gets the worm;
• Waste Not, Want Not;
• And maybe it was my fault in my situation.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults and citizens, not children, are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. (The Not-My-Child syndrome.)

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; a Fort Hood Terrorist and illegal criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live. Common Sense was preceded in death:

• by his parents, Truth and Trust;
• by his wife, Discretion;
• by his daughter, Responsibility;
• by his son, Reason.
• by his grandmother, Sound Judgment;
• and by his grandfather, Future Planning.

He is survived by his 6 stepbrothers:

• I Know My Rights;
• I Want It Now;
• Someone Else Is To Blame;
• I'm Offended;
• I'm A Victim;
• You owe me.

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

R.I.P.

Wow! Our Cops Can Move!

It was a quarter to midnite: It is never good to wake up to the sound of someone screaming for help. I threw open the front door, cell phone in hand, looking around and listening for any more shouts.

Someone was screaming: “Help me! Please call the Bradley Beach police!”

It was a moon-less night and the fog had rolled in. It was hard to see even three doors down, but I did see two men on the lawn and one on a porch. I heard multiple footsteps pounding the decks overhead, other neighbors were woken by the drama unfolding down the block.

When I called the police, none of us were sure just WHERE the cries were coming from, but those guys were a good guess.

TWO unmarked cars flew down the block.

Now there was another man in the mix, fighting with another one on the lawn.

The cops were hollering: “Stand down. Stand down NOW!”

Whoa, they jammed brakes, threw the cars in park and while the cars were still rocking, both cops bolted out running.

It was like watching Michael Strahan sack the Quarterback: The guys never saw it coming!

One cop tackled both men around their waists, spun them around, bounced onto the back end of a car and down to the gutter.

‘Twas good to know, if needed, our cops got some serious skills.

A Cop Pulled Me Over?!

It was 10:30 pm on a Monday night

Guess it was a slow night, summer tourist season has not started and the bar crowd is fairly thin on a Monday evening.

I had passed the officer sitting on the Manasquan Circle, and I wasn’t concerned, twasn’t speeding and had properly used all signals. Although I was contemplating about how much my life has changed, and reminiscing about my wild and woolly days driving home very late around this very circle from a night out, and laughing that now I am driving home from a Bible Ed class.

Can I get an Amen from all the reformed, older and wiser, people out there?

The next traffic light had just flashed yellow, and I thought about gunning it, but braked instead. Glad I did, that same officer was now glued to my bumper. Why?

When the light changed, the car next to me gunned it and flew off down the road. So when those famous flashing lights went on, I ASSUMED that it was for THAT car: NOT me!

Since I was driving home from a Bible Ed class, did I not earn a special Brownie Point? My halo was all polished up!

I pulled over, sorted out my documents, and assumed that my brake light was out. Both my Hyundais burn thru headlights and tail lights, and those tickets are just unfair, and pricey.

As I handed the officer my documents, I said, “I can’t imagine why you pulled me over.”

Of course, he merely replied something about telling me after he ran my license.

Drum Roll Please . . . And the reason I was pulled over. . .

The reflective coating on my license plate was cracked and peeling, making it hard for him to read. Maybe I should get new plates.

Why? This car is a few years old and has 138,000 miles. My prior Hyundai was 13 years old and had 222,000 miles: on 3 cylinders! The plates are from the year 2000, yep, they are old, but I am NOT buying new ones until I buy the next car: but I expect another 100,000 miles from this car: It could be a while.

Damnable Thieves: Stole a Handicapped Walker!

Someone Stole a Handicapped Walker and Sold it for Scrap!

There are just low-life opportunistic thieves: and they travel in packs.

My brother-in-law is handicapped and uses walkers to get around. I have a handicapped tag hanging from my rearview mirror: don’t use a handicapped space and do not even think of harassing someone who is handicapped around me!

He is well liked around here, and does so much for these tenants. And for years has stored his walkers under the front stairwell. They’re very handy to grab when needed: and I usually have another in the trunk of my car.

However, as he was leaving for a doctor appointment, and went to retrieve his walker, it was gone. He called me; I flew home, opened my car trunk expecting to see the spare, but no luck.

So are those there few pennies that ya earned scrapping the stolen metal walkers, plus some old beach chairs, worth a tour in one of the nine levels of hell from Dante’s Inferno? (click the title for the Cliff Notes synopsis.)

Yeah, I went to the police station, and then I went to the local metal scrap yard. I asked them to put the thieves thru the chipper, butt first.

Can ya blame me?

And This One Looked like ZZ Top

I had been keeping my eye out on two odd-looking men hanging at the end of our parking lot: One was sitting on the back of an old sofa dumped on the curb; the other was pacing about the parking lot, possibly talking to someone down below.

I wasn’t sure what to make of them, and I thought one would make interesting pix, but as I grabbed my cell phone, the dude suddenly appeared at my door.

He didn’t even knock! This bizarre looking man, with a beard over a foot long, yanked open MY door and tried to step inside! Whoa!

I am so glad that I wasn’t sitting at my kitchen table, but was standing at the door, which prevented him from striding inside.

Where the heck were his manners? Didn’t your momma teach you manners such as knocking, THEN waiting for an invite?

He asked if I had any rooms to rent.

Does this look like the Bates Motel?

Frankly, I was insulted. The owners spent a chunk of change sprucing up this place, and I have spent enormous energy keeping it looking good.

I firmly told him, “No rooms, just apartments, and we do not have any vacancies.”

He walked away. Whew!

Even the Cat is Fed Up with the Cold!

We all agree, this has been one so very long winter, and Spring is only teasing us with a few warmish days.

Some time ago, the cat began sleeping on my feet, and I always thought it was because she was finally warming up to me. Nah! In the winter, I use a heating pad for my Popsicle Toes (great jazzy song by Michael Franks).

This winter has been so freaking mean and long, I splurged on an electric blanket, and it is set to Thermal Nuclear Meltdown, every night. In fact, I turn it on long before bedtime to be sure that the bed is thoroughly cooked.

The heating pad was moved from the foot of the bed to the top, just under my shoulders. The cat moved too: She no longer sleeps on my feet; she pretty much took over the bed. It is AMAZING that a 5 pound cat can hog the entire bed!

The cat wants the electric blanket turned on, all day long.

During the day, she has learned how to demand that the heating blanket be turned on. I am not kidding, she will come out to wherever I am, dance, talk, then jump onto my bed, pace around and sniff where the clickers are! She has learned to differentiate the sound of each controller and curl up on that end of the bed.

The blanket will automatically shut-off during the night, it’s a safety feature, and during the night I will click the heating pad and blanket back on. One night, I only clicked the heating pad and the blanket went cold. The cat actually walked up the bed, and curled her furry body under my face, thus hogging the heating pad. I thought it was merely a coincidence. She has repeated that stunt many times this winter: Teach me not to keep the blanket cranking.

The Dog Could Care Less

Because the Lab is now 12 years old and his hips are giving him problems, I placed the heating pad on the floor just for him. I wrapped it in a towel, left it on the floor in his favorite spots, I even wrapped his hips with the heating pad, but he would shake it off, and then walk away.

We humans are suckers for our pets. The four-legged critters rule our homes, and our hearts. They are in charge of the house. Sigh.

Another Dead Mouse

I am getting better at NOT screaming when I find them: Live ones scurrying around never bothered me, it’s finding dead ones in my home that freak me out.

When my son was small, there was a very large radiator in his bedroom. One day, as I was cleaning his room, searching for lost toys and laundry, I made the mistake of reaching under that radiator for a small white sock.

It wasn’t a sock.

That was the very first time that a cat that had left a mouse for me, never mind the fact that I had mistaken the mouse for a sock! I screamed like a girl, ran out of the room, through the living room, kitchen and finally out the back door onto the porch. Once out there, I realized that I had to go BACK inside and pick up that poor critter to dispose of it.

But this latest poor mouse bit the dust in the furnace room: Can’t blame the cat for its untimely demise, not too sure if I should blame the workmen, after all, they had spent quite some time working down there. But they did state that they swept up the mess they had made.

Obviously they missed the critter.

Do Not Play the Handicapped Card with Me!

I am not handicapped, but I do have a Motor Vehicle Handicapped tag hanging from my rear view mirror. It is not for me, but for a family member.

From childhood I learned all too well how much planning goes into choosing a restaurant, because of easy access; just how cold it is pushing a wheelchair up a handicapped ramp in the rain; how complicated and difficult stairs can be in snow or even after dark because they are hard to see.

And don’t even get me started on those prima donnas who think they can park in a handicapped space just because they are too special and too lazy to walk a few car lengths. I have embarrassed a few women in stiletto heels using a handicapped spot while they run to the ATM.

I know just how damn rude, or ignorant, employees at the movie theatre can be, refusing my request to use the side door that is in their view, but made my brother-in-law, hobbling with a walker, trudge all the way up to the main door, then the back down the entire length of the foyer, past the side door, then into the theatre. Yeah, I left from that side door, they won't have my business again.

Then, a handicapped tenant flipped the tables on me…

We had nasty snow storm: I offered to jockey his car around, several times: to get it off the street, park it in the lot, or move to the other side of the street because of the plows. All offers were refused. I kept an eye out, made sure the stairs and walkways were cleared, sanded, etc. But people, we had 2-3 inches of snow, and lots of ice! We live on the ocean, lots of moisture, and lots of ice.

One of the tenants took it on himself to spend the afternoon chopping and shoveling the ice in the driveway. The parking lot has a rise and the bottom end is slightly rounded, a hump, we clear and salt it, but snow melts, forms ice and that’s it. Be careful.

I looked down and there is the tenant, with crutches walking around this lot, chatting up the dude who is shoveling. He was out there, strolling up and down a good 30 minutes.

I spotted a plow working the building next door, ran down and asked if he could clear the mountain of snow at the end of our parking lot, so the garbage truck could get into our lot and empty the dumpster. (Overflowing dumpsters are ugly sights indeed.)

As his car was already idling alongside that mountain of snow that the plow was heading for, I asked the tenant to please move his car off the street and into the lot.

Wow! Nasty, angry and vulgar!

How dare I ask him: He ONLY came down here to make sure his car started! And now I want him to walk through all this ice? And now he is sick. He has the flu!

Duh? You walked down two flights of stairs, down the sidewalk, over the ice, through clumps of snow and through the slush and ice in the street, just to start your car. You have been strolling around a parking lot full of ice. You have been outside 30 minutes and JUST NOW you have the FLU?!

I pointed out the plow heading our way. I offered to move his car for him.

More @#$@#%@#% drama. He now has a fever.

He agreed to move his car, but as he is walking down the parking lot, loudly protesting his handicap, his illness, the ice, and while my back was turned, he fell.

As I rushed to help, I thought it was odd that I didn’t hear a cry of, “OMG!” or even hear a thump. As I walked alongside him to the sidewalk, I heard all about his illness and, “Don’t stand too close to me, I don’t want you to catch what I have.”

I wasn’t worried.

When we reached the sidewalk a neighbor (whom he complains about in great detail) came down with her new dog. He stopped to chat. He wasn’t worried about his flu, his contagious illness, nor was he in a desperate hurry to get upstairs.

He moved. Yaaay.

Yeah.