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.