Crazy Bitch

So, blah, blah I’ve been gone for awhile. Boston, not feeling so well, work, busy, elections, Halloween, etc. The only thing to say about any of that is that I am concerned for the health of a country that turns Salem, MA into a tacky Halloween-themed (historic) carnival town, replete with guides in witch hats and tarot readings at every corner.

The only real reason I opened up a new post, though, is to tell a story about two crazy people (ok, three, if you count me).

Saturday evening, Steve and I were at home at like 9:30 and I was finishing something up before we went to a Halloween party. And our neighbor comes stomping up the stairs. Now, I’ve never spoken to this woman. She’s never introduced herself or said hi when we moved in. She came over and told Steve we needed to disconnect our bathroom fan because it was loud. And, one time, she yelled at us from her patio to stop slamming our door — because it’s one of those doors that like swings shut.

So, we were both a little taken aback when she started screaming through our door, “STOP PARKING IN MY SPOT YOU ASSHOLES!”

No, she didn’t knock and then scream this at us. She just stood outside the closed door and screamed through the wall some more about us being ASSHOLES after Steve yelled, “ARE YOU TALKING TO US?”

So, we both get up and put on jackets and walk outside and knock on her door. And she refuses to answer it. She yells, “I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS RIGHT NOW.”

It might have been a good idea not to start yelling obscenities first then.

Steve suggests that she’s drunk and probably shouldn’t have been driving anyway, which seems accurate, and then she opens the door. And, she’s yelling at us (though slightly less loudly) about how there was a system long before we moved in and everyone parked in certain spots and we need to stop parking in her spot.

At this point, I should probably let you know that every unit in our condo has a garage that is part of their unit. She’s not talking about her garage, which is filled with stuff. She’s yelling at us about the 11 parking spots in the front of the building that are unmarked and unassigned for you to use if you choose not to use your garage or if you have guests, etc. There’s also street parking just on the other side of that. Really, there’s a lot of parking.

So, she’s going on about how her spot is the one closest to the door. And when we point out there’s no way we would have known that, where are these unwritten rules written down, then — all of sudden — she stops yelling and is like, “Sorry, I thought you know,” and shakes our hands. As though we’re all cool now?!

Then, we ask where our supposed spot is then and she doesn’t know.

Which is besides the point anyway, because you can’t “call” random spots when you have a garage and choose not to use it because you say you can’t back into it — it’s not like the garage moved after you bought the place, so you knew what you were getting into. And, there’s 12 units and only 11 of the unmarked spots — obviously, they’re just up for grabs.

So.

Sunday morning, I go to the Marin County Triathlon to volunteer. And as I’m leaving, I’m pushing my bike — which is how I got there — and mostly walking on the shoulder to not get in the way of the race. While I was leaving the park it wasn’t a problem, but then I get to the entrance of the park and there’s three coned lanes in the street: one for bikers going one way, one for bikers going another way, and a small one for runners. There’s tons of bikers going both directions, so I can’t cross over to the sidewalk on the other side, and there’s only 7 or 8 runners on course yet (everyone is still biking for the most part) and none of those runners are near this area.

So, I start walking on the edge of the run lane, after the shoulder runs out and there’s no where to go in the bushes, and pushing my bike and looking over my shoulder to make sure no runners are coming.

And everyone starts yelling at me “That’s the runner’s lane!”

I know, I know, it’s not a big deal, there’s no one around.

But, people keep yelling, “THAT’S THE RUN LANE.”

Ok, ok, I know.

Then, this woman keeps yelling at me and I’m like, ” I Know.”

And. Then. She gets all bitchy and says, “Well, if you know then you should tell us, instead of just looking at us.” Dude, I couldn’t give a shit about you, I was looking to see if there were any runners.

SO. I. LOST. MY. SHIT.

I just full on start screaming at this woman. I don’t even know what I said. Whatever it was, I wasn’t like saying it in a loud voice or making off-hand snide comments (which is my usual M.O. when I’m pissed off). I was pulling a Real World, crazy bitch, screaming blow-out. If this was a reality show, I’d have handed my earring to someone and started slapping.

But, it was the real world not The Real World and people don’t really know how to respond to that.

So, for the most part, she just kind of shut up and I turned around and kept walking.

I just had reached my limit — whatever it is — for random people bitching at me about crazy shit. And that was just that.

3 thoughts on “Crazy Bitch

  1. Never.Ever.Break.The.Rule. People in Marin will never let you forget it.

    Seriously. I don’t know how Marin ever got the reputation for ‘going with the flow mellow’.

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