Audit this (grabs crotch)

We had our annual HOA meeting the other night. I missed last year’s meeting because I was away. When I think of silly days throughout the year that I look forward to way more than I know I should, Annual HOA meeting comes up near the top of the list. Others, if you care, include: Fantasy football draft days, fantasy baseball draft day, the first 2 days of the NCAA tournament. This, of course, excluded holidays and birthdays. I’m talking about random days that are just too much fun to ignore.

Unfortunately, turnout was piss poor this year. I was sad. I had hoped for a bunch of drunken rednecks to show up and start screaming that the dues were too high or that they hated everything.

Instead, we were subjected to an evening with BigSexyGlenn. Of course, knowing this would happen, I made up a list of things he (or others) would say at the meeting and passed said list out to people at the meeting. It was fun to sit there, knowing that he had already demanded we do an audit and that, any moment now, “I have a degree in property management” was coming. When it did, I looked at a few people who were nearly in tears from laughter.

I leaner that BigSexyGlenn didn’t like the fact that we tried to grow 3 corn stalks behind our house this past summer. Apparently that detracted from the curb appeal of our homes. Mind you, as you would expect, the curbs are in the front of the house and the corn was out back. BigSexyGlenn is all about consistency of house appearance. He wants everything to look the same; that’s how it works in a townhome community. Noting that, I emailed the board a list of inconsistencies at his house. I wonder if they’ll do anything about them. Glass houses, asshole…glass houses.

Otherwise, the meeting was dull. There weren’t enough people there to start any fights. The biggest uproar was over BigSexyGlenn’s insistence that we have an audit done. When the treasurer asked him what he thought would be involved, he could not answer, but countered by asking the Board if they’d read the NC state laws on townhouse management. One person finally said “You just want us to say ‘no’ to feel better about all this, don’t you?” That was beautiful.

He also chided the board for not breaking into a house that had been in foreclosure to fix their blinds. Again, they asked “Did you want us to break in?” He said they should have done something. “You mean break in, right?”

It went on like that for some time. I applaud the Board. I know what they go through and they’ve had an especially hard time of it lately. Last year, they lost over $10,000 in income when 3 houses defaulted on mortgages and stopped paying dues. That’s a lot of money. They managed to keep things afloat and continue the improvement projects I started. Kudos to them.

I bought a big exercise ball last weekend. It’s quite fun. I sit on it for about half the workday. I had realized that I was slouching while I worked and would end up with a stiff neck by about 3:00. Now I have a big orange ball to bounce around on. Since I couldn’t get to the gym today, I took the opportunity to exercise during a particularly uninteresting conference call. People babbled about something; I did these nasty sit-up things. JewelrySlut and I have to find a way to work the big ball into our love play. Because that will be awesome. Shockingly, there’s some site in Australia devoted to finding ways to exercise while boning.

The internet is awesome.

Walkin’ by myself

The past 2 mornings, I helped out at school. They’re doing fitness testing and the gym teacher asked for volunteers. Help at gym class? Hell…I can do that!

Tuesday was an inside day. Remember the standing broad jump and the infamous shuttle run? Well…I officiated the former and gawked at the latter.

Today was the 1-mile run.

I have this to say about teachers everywhere: You do God’s work. I could NEVER imagine having to put up with that many kids who didn’t belong to me without killing at least 5 of the little shit heads.

Tuesday:
“Stand behind the line, jump from both feet. I’ll mark where you land”
Simple enough, right?

Child 1 stands over the line.
“Behind the line”
Child stays there
(Points with yard stick) “Behind the line please”
Child moves back the slightest bit
“Listen, I can do this all day if you want. Get behind the line and jump”

Rinse, repeat, kill.

They had to do the mile today. Shmuppie finished in about 9 minutes or so. She was 3rd or so in the class. One kid walked the mile in 32 minutes.

Think about that. Do you know how hard you have to try to walk a mile in 32 minutes? We’re not talking about some decrepit old lady; we’re talking about an 8-year old. To take that long takes a lot of something? Determination? Spite? Hatred for all authority?

How do you harness that kind of obstinance and make something useful out of it? Or, as I suspect, does the school, at this age, just say “Fuck her” and move on? Hell…who’s to say they didn’t say that 2 weeks in to Kindergarten? This behavior was not a today phenomenon.

Before I go and sound all “In my day” on you, I know we were awful little kids running around in 1982. But I can’t ever recall anyone being as rude and awful as some of these kids are. The teacher says sit down? They look him in the eye and walk the other way. There’s a difference between kids being kids and a lack of respect.

And…how much of it is race?

On a lighter note, 2 mothers were there helping. These kids, because of the nature of the school, have been in class together since Kindergarten. Shmuppie will stay with this exact group through 5th grade now.
“Look at Johnny…he looks like he gained weight. What do you think that could be from?”
“Oh…I bet he’s on medication. Probably steroids. They make you gain weight.”

Really ladies? You’re gonna look at an 8-year old kid in the year 2010 and assume medication? Really? The kid’s got a damn body by McDonald’s there. This same child walked the mile and was panting and sweating after less than 1/4 mile. The little bastard is fat. I’d wager he hasn’t eaten anything green in months!

Damn kids. I hate them all.

Hmmm…at current time, the dopes down the road are sending us emails to tell us that they’ll never read emails from us ever again and that we should never email them ever again…and again.

Annual Homeowner’s meeting tonight. I plan to hand out lists for people that show things that are guaranteed to be said at the meeting. Mostly, they’re things BigSexyGlenn will say. It should be fun.

I helped at school today. The kids are evil and the gym teacher is a saint.

I have nothing else to say for now. I’ll just sit here and bounce on my big ball.

Baby baby baby oh…

What a weekend. It started oddly and ended even more oddly.

The middle was good though.

Let’s do this in order:
Friday evening was the school dance. It was a horror show. Here are my comments:

at the school dance. expect this to resemble a twitter page tonight. question: should a woman my age know the words to any justin beiber song?

Not sure what my favorite Macarena memory is. Could be my father in law at the wedding. Could be when we got Ketan to do it that one time.
Both were improbably awesome

These kids know the words to these rap music songs. Yes, I said rap music songs

Thriller? It’s only 6:40 and they’re that far down the list? Songs I won’t hear include: in da butt and I wanna sex you up

The current song is either being sung by chipmunks or I just had a stroke. In either case, send an ambulance and 3 fingers of rum

You can feel it (it’s electric)

There is little dancing. Mostly its 100 screaming kids beating each other with balloons. Every parent is buried in their phone

I went to get myself a water. A bulging, rippling woman in a Tinkerbelle shirt (irony anyone) grabbed my hand and said “grownup?” I said “last I checked” I was given a larger bottle. It does not contain vodka I’m sad to say

20 minutes later we have not crowned a limbo winner

Fog machine + no ventilation = bad.
I got gloss on my lips. Man on my hip.

Know the “everybody clap your hands song?” It doesn’t work well when half the kids get the steps wrong because they can’t tell left from right (my child is in that half)

Some “best of both worlds” song just came on and, in unison, each kid hit the floor and writhed and screamed. What the hell was that?

These songs all have organized choreography. In my day (leans on cane) all we had was the electric slide
/shoos kids off my lawn

Large breasted mother’s shirt reads “I’m not short. My (obscured by the underside of said breasts) is”. And it is Macarena time again

The world better prepare for another billionaire…or in my case, another drunk 36 year old.

The gym has 2 city certificates. One says over 170 occupants is dangerous. The other says 540 people. What?

So, Shmuppie had a blast. There was no dancing. Just a lot of running around by a mass of children. Of course, the dance was for kids in Kindergarten through 5th grade so the mix of people was strange. Parents were also dancing, including one mother in way too small of a dress (she looked like an overstuffed sausage) gyrating suggestively.

I also saw a woman who bore a striking resemblance to the girl I dated in high school. Well…she would have if she’d decided to forgo trying anymore, buy a large purse and found it acceptable to go out in public in knee-high argyle socks and fuzzy slippers.

The parents all looked horrified and tried to avoid eye contact with each other. We could have banded together but all chose to go through our own personal hells on our own. Because, without booze, what was there to do?

I went home and drank too much wine.

Saturday: FAIR DAY!

Wisely, we set out to go to the far at about 9:30. We arrived and found the fairgrounds mostly empty. We were able to move through the front half and all of the animal exhibits in no time. Moo was having a really good time and was in a good mood. She enjoyed all the fried goodies we were giving her. The crowds picked up as we hit the main midway, but it still wasn’t bad. It turned out that they set the single-day attendance record on Saturday, but we were gone by 2:30 and missed most of the crowds.

By that time, I was done. Moo had been strapped to my chest all afternoon and I was sore in places I didn’t know could be sore. She had also gone from happy to exhausted to furious to asleep and was a rather dead weight hanging from me. Shmuppie, despite not admitting to any fatigue, fell asleep on the bus.

It goes without saying that Saturday’s dinner was a large salad. We needed vegetation to fight off the afternoon. For reasons unknown, Moo was in a great mood at dinner and ate a slice of pizza, 4-5 shrimp, some feta cheese and some salad. She’s an odd little duck.

All in all, we had a really good time and now have a plan for next year; arrive early, leave early.

Sunday:
We really didn’t have much planned, but isn’t that how it always goes. By the end of the day, I’d been skewered by a wire fence and been threatened by some white trash.

My father needed me to run up to their house in the morning to winterize their fish pond.

Remember their pond?

They have problems with a blue heron who likes to come by and spend the winter eating their fish. So, they spread this claptrap of wire mesh across the pond. My father’s got a bad knee, so I was drafted to assist. We uncoiled these evil spools of mesh, stabbing ourselves multiple times and more or less covered the pond. As I understand things, this isn’t a 100% foolproof method of pond covering. One winter, as I understand things, the heron came to visit and then got stuck under the mesh. My father had to scoop/fish an angry heron out of his pond. Oh, I wish I had been there that day.

We got the pond set and I went home. We went to the store and I limped my ass to the couch for some football. Shmuppie and I made a lovely dinner of chicken thighs in a light tomato sauce. It was served over spaghetti. All it really needed were some kalamata olives to put a really thorough Greek spin on it. But, it was good.

Oh look…the little red light on my blackberry is flashing. I have email. Could it be?

Yup.

Dingaling had gotten herself good and drunk and wrote back. Needless to say, I was called every name in the book, sworn at and told that if I ever emailed them again I’d be sorry.

Did an employee of the State of NC just threaten me in an email send from her State of NC email address? Could someone be so foolish?

Yup.

JewelrySlut and I had a look at it and shook our heads. Not smart…not smart at all. I could send this to her boss and she could find herself in some hot water.

Right before we sat down to eat, the little light started flashing again. Quasi was answering!

I was called a crybaby because I didn’t like that I was getting calls at work. I was told that I had made Dingaling angry because I had insulted her (I’ll wait while you go to Friday’s post to re-read the email) and that I shouldn’t make her mad (Hulk get mad. Hulk eat at Hardees!). I was also told that both JewelrySlut and I had insulted them and that we had made it known to them and their family how we felt about them. And that, more or less, I should fuck myself.

Did I also mention that he’s a state employee using his state email address?

Great. Now those 2 sacks of shit are all riled up and, for all I know, ready to come firebomb the house.

Monday:
I had yet another dentist appointment. In the waiting room, the little red light started flashing.

Dingaling had sobered up. She told e that they had spoken to their lawyer and that he advises that I could tell anyone who called that if they kept calling, my job could be in jeopardy.

Hmmm…interesting. Let’s parse that sentence, shall we?

“Their lawyer” They’re not the types to keep a genteel southern gentleman (I suspect he wears seersucker all year long and looks downright rakish in his bowtie and suspenders) on retainer. This means they have a need for a lawyer.

Calls at work putting a job in jeopardy: Happen to you guys much lately?

Hmmm…sounds like someone’s in a bit of trouble. I’d guess that now would be the wrong time to call them and see if we could buy their Wii off them. We’re getting one for Christmas, but if I can save a few bucks and help out a family member…I’m that kind of magnanimous.

So…they seem to have a mess on their hands. You know…you could have said that from the start and not acted nasty. We didn’t start out nasty…it only got there once I got involved.

We won’t see them or communicate with them again until JewelrySlut’s father dies. I just hope they have a phone so I can call them.

Pictures tomorrow.

No…she doesn’t live here…

About 6 weeks ago, I got a call on my office line. Someone from American Express was looking for Dingaling. Remember her? My now-fat brother-in-law’s wife???

“Um…what? This is her husband’s brother in law. You’re close, but not quite right? Who is this?”
“This is American Express.”
“Oh”

Well, I gave AmEx their home number and went about my life. I told JewelrySlut and she dent Dingaling a nice email along the lines of “I hope you’re doing OK, but AmEx called NoGoodDaddy on his work line. Can you call them back and give them your number?”

She wrote back to say that Quasi had missed a payment and they were now in phone call hell.

End of story…so we thought.

3 weeks later, the phone rings. It’s a number in Greensboro. I only answered because I have a client out that way and thought they might be calling me from a different number or something of the sort.

“Is Quasi there?”
“Umm…no. Who is this?”
“So and so Credit Union.”
“Um…nope…not him. This is his brother-in-law. Let me give you his work email address”

**background**
JewelrySlut has not spoken to her brother in over a year. We did something to piss them of and now they’ve more or less shut us out of their lives. Boo-fucking-hoo. Dingaling wrote to us a few months back, asking that we PLEASE not tell Quasi about the email, to say that we needed to get together and patch things up because the kids should not grow up not knowing their cousins. JewelrySlut agreed. We never heard back from them.

We think they’re mad at us because JewelrySlut and the rest of us have embraced her father’s wife as a member of the family. As I’ve stated, and will at length when I have time and learn to type, is a saint. She’s been married to him for barely 4 years and is now his 24/7 caretaker. The asshats are mad because she swooped in and tried to replace JewelrySlut’s mother. That could not be farther from the truth, but that’s irrelevant when you’re dealing with White Trash.

S, after the last call, JewelrySlut wrote to them again and says that she hopes they’re OK, but could they please call the credit union and get my number off of their records.

Quasi responds with a nasty email denying ever giving anyone our names as a contact and that he’d make sure nobody called us and bothered me.

That night they unfriended JewelrySlut on Facebook.

That’s nice.

2 hours ago the phone rang.

“Is Dingaling there?”
(Seething)”No…this is her husband’s brother-in-law. What is this regarding?”
“This is American Express. I’m so sorry to bother you. I’ll fix our records, but we need to reach them”
“Ok”

Then I wrote the following email:

Quasi,
I just received another call to my work line from American Express. Today, they were looking for Dingaling.

I’d really like for this to stop. Having people call me on my work line to hunt you down is disruptive and, quite frankly, wholly inappropriate. Obviously, at a time in the past when you felt it appropriate to do so, you listed JewelrySlut and me on some form as a contact. AmEx and others have used this information to find my work number in an attempt to track you guys down.

I don’t really care to hear back from you with an explanation or excuse. You guys made it quite clear to us how you felt after the last time JewelrySlut reached out to you regarding this issue. Please work with whomever you need to work with in order to ensure I will stop receiving these phone calls.

Too much? I don’t think so. I think I was nice. What I wanted to say is:

“Listen, you lowlife piece of shit, I don’t care if you lose your house, car, will to live or 100 lbs. Don’t have these people call me anymore. Got it, stupid?”

As we see it, we won’t speak to them until JewelrySlut’s father passes and won’t see them until the funeral. I won’t say I’m looking forward to the day when I make the call to them (we assume JewelrySlut will be in FLA already, but a part of me CANNOT wait to call them. I also can’t wait to see them in FLA and watch them get shut out of the family. They made their bed, go loll around in it like the livestock you’ve become.

Did I mention they’re both hella fat now?

Now, I have to go get dressed for an elementary school dance.

As the kids say… FML!