The World’s Pariah

Note:  This blog is intended to allow me to release the pent up frustration I have over broadzilla and Magda.  I apologize for the length.  Thank you for your patience.

Most of my friends know that I generally do not like people.  I find most people are quite loathsome.  This is through my years of commuting in NYC and the unavoidable luck of chance. On a regular basis I try to remind myself that although I could probably purchase Chinese Stars, it might not be a good idea.  With that in mind, let’s talk about my upstairs neighbors.

I have lived in my current residence since December of last year.  I have over a year in there and I like my place.  It has hardwood floors, I have a washer/dryer hookup, there is great access to stores and places to eat.  Yep, my place is great.  One minor problem…

When I moved in I thought that the upstairs neighbor must be a mammoth individual because when they walked they sounded as if they were coming through the floor.  It was only later that I realized that they do not have proper ‘shared residence etiquette’.  They walk on their heels, not trying to make light of their steps, not worrying if they are knocking the picture frames from my walls.  I came to call (what I thought was one big ass person) broadzilla.  Broadzilla takes to walking over my bed on a nightly basis around one in the morning.  She drops whatever she is carrying.  She is a nightmare.  I have since found that broadzilla is the daughter of the main tenant upstairs.  Broadzilla is in her late 30’s by my best guesstimate.  Though I think she goes 260-280, I may be wrong.

However, this I am right about, she is a nasty little shit that should be removed from the face of the earth to save the rest of us from having to suffer from her existence.

So she is big and not pretty and nasty.  Can you tell me how she has had a handful of boyfriends?  And yes, she brings them home of the nighttime.  I am only fortunate enough to say that I have not had the pleasure of overhearing broadzilla’s mating call.  OMG thank gawd (of course I am sure I have jinxed myself by noting that for the record).

In our first week of living there, our front door kept sticking.  So it took a little slam to get it shut.  There is not a lot of traffic in and out of my house, so this slam may happen a handful of times in a day.  I came home the first week after having had worked a 15 hour day.  The door closes with a little slam.  Then broadzilla starts pounding on the floor.  I walked 1.5 steps further then thought, “Oh HELL no!”  Literally dropped everything in my hands to the floor and walked out to the porch where I proceeded to ring her doorbell.  I rang again.  Finally broadzilla reared her ugly head.  And as sweet as pie I asked, “May I ask why you were pounding on the floor.”  To which she did not know how to answer and mumbled something about the door slamming.  Again sweet as pie I noted, “It is only 7PM, the door sticks, there is no way around it…(I then opened and closed the door and showed her). Going forward NEVER beat on the floor.  Please have the decency to walk down here and knock and tell me your issue.  Please try to not be one of THOSE people.”  Seeing as I was sweet as pie it threw her off, she apologized and went on her way.

This summer my daughter informed me that the old lady upstairs (aka Magda) started yelling at her and her friends for sitting at the patio table in our backyard.  This patio table belongs to Magda (please reference ‘There’s Something About Mary’ to understand her looks).  Magda took to screaming at the kids at the top of her lungs.  That is when Mama Dukez (aka me) rolled out the door in full glory.  I rang the doorbell.  I rang again.  Magda answered the door and asked what I needed.  I asked why she yelled at my kids (by noting ‘my kids’ I had then adopted five of Amanda’s friends).  I was then lectured (and I listened patiently) about how they were sitting in HER patio furniture.  How other people had sat in said furniture previously and it is HER patio furniture.  So, calmly, I said (again, sweet as pie) that she would never have to worry about that again.  HOWEVER, going forward, unless she wanted a much bigger issue, she was to NEVER raise her voice to my kids again.  If that were to occur, other consequences would fall into play.  Again I get an apology and off she went.  They are great at blowing their load and then asking forgiveness.

On June 30th of this year I decided to have a BBQ in my back yard to celebrate my daughter’s graduation from high school.  She was all atwitter inviting various friends to come and hang out.  Seeing as the patio furniture had caused issue in previous weeks, I knocked on the neighbors’ door, spoke to broadzilla and explained that I was going to move the table to keep from any issues coming to play.  “Ok, ok.  Thank you so much.  No problems.”  Well, broadzilla did not speak to Magda about this and went on to work.  When Magda arrived home from her job she decided that there was much douchebaggery to be had.  So out in the middle of my daughter’s BBQ, much to our mortification, here comes Magda, walks through the middle of our party and starts moving her patio furniture into the middle of our event.  Friends, shall I say the proverbial shit hit the fan.  Calmly, I said “Excuse me”.  She kept up her stupidity.  Again, “Excuse me”. Still moving her patio gear in the middle of our food line.  Then I started to scream.  I will leave out of here what I screamed.  But we can say this, a bunch of 18 year olds thought that Mama Dukez was the shit after that day.  “Yo, did you hear your mom.  Dude she is crazy.”  Magda gets up, walks around the corner.  She peeks around the corner and calls to me and asks if I could come around the corner to speak to her.  AGAIN she apologizes.  She did not realize I spoke to her daughter before moving the (literally crap) furniture.  She did not realize that we were having a special party.  What the F ever!

Sigh.

Now I have found on another item that she had lied to me (I only found out this weekend) and told me that our landlady gave her front parking space privileges.  LIE.  So my landlady tells me this weekend, “No, not at all.  First come, first serve, park where you want.”  And so I did.  Last night there is a knock at my door.  Enter stage left, broadzilla.

You need to move your car.

Um, no I do not.

That is my parking spot.

Um, no it is not.

I have an agreement with the landlady.

Um, lie.

This is when she begins to yell, goes out to her car and pulls it in next to mine on my driver’s side to where I cannot get in.  I call to her “Move it. I will not be able to get in.”  “Crawl your ass through the passenger’s side for all I care.” I then called her a dirty twat (sorry kids but she is).  I then said, “I promise you this, you WILL move in time for me to go to work tomorrow.”  “No, I will not.”

Ok, so here is where my blood pressure went from elevated to hellish proportions.  See, my landlady told me that this pariah standing in front of me had not paid rent since September.  My landlady is this sweet Italian widow who raised her kids in this house but after the death of her husband moved home to take care of her parents.  This is her home.  And here, this piece of shit was willing to take advantage of her and not pay rent, not answer her calls, nothing.

Pariah.

So the blood pressure is up.  The idiot is in front of me.  I stopped and looked at her and as calmly as possible said, “Pariah”.  “Excuse me?” “Pariah.  Also known as a piece of shit not worthy of existence.  Wait, better…parasite.  Also known as someone who sucks the life out of others with nothing but their own self interest in place.  People like you who do not pay their rent, who lie to their neighbors, who are a pariah upon society – you people should be put on an island somewhere where you can do no harm to others.” hmph!  She stared at me.  I stared back.  She went in her house.

I tried to sleep.  Visions of being put out in the street because the widow cannot afford her mortgage and looses her house.  Like every other morning, I was up at 5AM.  I walked through the house in my robe.  Yep, broadzilla kept to her end of the bargain and the car is still parked almost against mine.  So, I walked out the door, put the garbage out and rang the doorbell.  No answer.  I knocked.  They look out the window.  I wait.  I ring the doorbell again.  Nothing.  I go in, take my shower, walk back out and ring the doorbell (over and over again, very fast, very annoyingly).  I knock.  They look out from the upstairs window.  Nothing.  I finish getting ready.  Walk back out they look out the window.  I look at them and say, “Quit being a piece of shit and come out here.  Move your car.”  I am now a nut job.  I have gone from being a good natured, normal person to Ivan the Terrible.  I rang the doorbell 20 times in one minute.  Then 20 times more.  My thought was, like Panama and Guns N Roses, the noise would drive them into submission.  I go to knock on the door only to realize the sneaked down and locked the screen.  So, they could come down and lock the screen but not move the car….blood pressure, we have lift off.

I called Nassau County Patrol who was kind enough to send out an officer to deal with the situation.  I explained that I wanted to go to work but the vindictive neighbors *turn to the side and point* did this.  I have a back injury and am NOT killing myself going through the passenger side.

By this time Magda and broadzilla have made an appearance.  Daddy always said, let stupid speak from themselves.  So, I stood back while these women went to saying that I was spiteful for having parked in their spot.  He looked at me, I had cell phone in hand.  I explained that, if needed, I could call the landlord and let her explain that there is no preferential parking.  She said she did not want to do that.  I asked, “Why?  It is not because you have not paid her rent since September, is it?”  The cop looks at me then back to them.  He stops and says (and I respect him for this) “All of these things are personal problems you will need to take up with your landlord.  Ma’am, will you please move your car?”  Then, from her mouth came something so downright “are you f’ing kidding me” that it took a moment to register, “I will think about it.”  The cop looks at me, back at her and says, “Excuse me?”  “I said I will think about it.”  The cop looked at his watch and says, “I will give you one minute to think about it.”  She makes comments after comments, he sat calmly.  Finally he points at the cars and asks if she thinks that looks ‘fair’?  She said yes, because I could have gotten through the passenger side door.  I pointed at the stretch of driveway that could hold eight cars end to end and asked why she could not park there.  “THIS is my space.”  “Lie.” After much hem-hawing around Magda finally made her move the car.  I kept my end of the promise and made sure that I could enter my vehicle in a civilized manner.

I look at the cop, apologized that I had a year’s worth of frustration in me and then looked back at the dynamic duo and said –

“Quit rifling through my mail.  That is a federal offense.  You are not allowed to open my mailbox and remove mail.  Going forward I will make sure to press charges through the post office if I, or my kids, catch you doing it again.”  She went to make an excuse.  I stopped her and said, “With this cop as my witness, I have asked you to quit.  Next time I will go to the post office and I will file a grievance.”  He looked at her and said, “Quit it.”

So tonight I will write a thank you note to the calm police officer and tomorrow I will call to see where I can send it.  However, on my commute home I will dread what will meet me at my own door.

How can people steal money from a widow?  How do people do that?

And, it has been told that she has filed a sexual harassment suit on her employer.

These…THESE are the people who fuck up the system for the rest of the civilized people out there.

These are the people who make me want to buy a dozen Chinese Stars.