Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

20 July 2012

That awkward moment...

So this totally happened last night:

I was cleaning up the dinner dishes, minding my own business, when a knock upon my door startled me from my reverie.  (My reverie while doing dishes and cleaning up after dinner includes thoughts along the lines of, "Why do I always have to do the fucking dishes?  Are his dishwashing hands broken?  Asshole." and "It's 2012, for God's own sweet sake... why hasn't a self-cleaning kitchen been invented already?  Oh yeah... because scientists are too busy discovering VIAGRA.")

I did a quick self-check to make sure that no boobs were hanging out, fluffed my hair, quieted my rabid dog (a knock upon the door triggers a feral reaction in Maisy that goes from irritating to embarrassing very, very quickly), stuck my foot in position (I have to put my foot between Maisy and the doorway to prevent her from charging like an asshole at whoever is knocking... she has no intention of biting them, and in fact, if she happens to bump into them while she's barking like a maniac, she will immediately make a u-turn and haul ass back into the house to bark from the safety of the hallway, but that doesn't stop people from thinking she's a menace to society), and opened the door to the pissy-looking countenance of my new neighbor's woman.  (I think.  I have no idea.  Maybe she's his sister, or his roommate, or a random stranger who just happened to claim she lives downstairs.)

Me:  *shouting over my stupid yapping dog and smiling obsequiously*  "Hi!  What's up?"

Her:  *arms folded, shitty look on her face*  "Hiii... I live downstairs.  Would you mind not slamming your cupboard doors shut every time you open them?"

Me:  *holding obsequious smile in place because for a minute, I wasn't sure she was speaking English* "Umm... what?"

Her:  *maintaining the shitty look on her face like it was her JOB*  "All we can hear downstairs every time you're in the kitchen is you slamming your cupboard doors.  Could you not do that?"

Me:  *trying really hard not to call her a cunt*  "Umm... sure.  I had no idea I was doing that.  Sorry."

She turned and left, without a thanks or a good-bye, and I stomped back into the kitchen, muttering to myself and resisting the urge to slam the bejeezus out of all the cupboards.

Dan, from the bedroom, where he was helpfully letting me do all the work and deal with the bitch downstairs:  "What was that about?"

Me, still pissed.  And by pissed?  I mean PISSED:  "She said I slam the cupboards and asked me to stop.  Whatever.  Excuse the fuck out of me for living upstairs and doing my dishes."\

Dan, mildly:  "You DO slam the cupboard doors."




Hell hath no fury like a woman wrongly accused of slamming cupboard doors.

I ohhhh soooo quietly finished the dishes, tip-toed around the kitchen, softly opened and softly closed cabinets, and fumed until it was time for bed.

I really, really missed Mr. Awesome.  He never would have accused me of slamming a cupboard door.  Oh, HELL no.  He would have invited all his homies over, cranked the music, and sang karaoke until dawn.

THAT's what a good neighbor does, dammit.  They don't go upstairs and WRONGLY ACCUSE YOU of slamming a cupboard door.

Oh, it's ON.

This morning, I got up and made my coffee.  I took the coffee cup out of the cupboard and as I swung it shut, I had a brief moment of clarification.

"Naaaaah..." I thought to myself.

I put my breakfast in the microwave, set the timer, and swung the door shut.


Wait a minute...

I opened the fridge, got out my coffee creamer, and as I kicked it shut with my bare foot a lightbulb went on over my head.

Well, SHIT.

I'm a regular one woman Mariachi Band.  With a drum solo.  And cymbals.  And a tap dancer.  Without the guitars.


Bang!  Crash!  Slam!

It was exactly like this, only totally different.

Or maybe it was more like this...

Who knew I was so noisy???

Surely not me.

I have no idea what to do with the information.

I mean, I could always do the obvious and stop slamming cupboard doors, but somehow that seems too easy, almost like a cop-out.

I need to do something else.

Something... bigger.

No, something even BIGGER.

I could take my show on the road!!

Crap... that's already been done.

OR... and this is just a thought...

I could make Dan do the dishes, thus eliminating the problem altogether.


I like that one.

Hee hee!


  1. I think you're solution is pure brilliance. But I say you take it one step further. Not only do you make him do the dishes, but you make him answer the door from now on. That way HE gets to deal with Bitchy McNeighborpants, and you can just sit in the other room yelling, "what did she want?" when he's done dealing with her. Oh, and make sure he brings you a frosty beverage when he's done with those chores. And maybe gives you a foot rub. Yeah, that's the ticket!

    1. Frosty beverage: Check

      Foot rub: Check

      Anything else I need to demand?


  2. Ok, so you're a slammer. She could have been nicer about the whole thing. I say it's on. And whoever lives on the top floor ALWAYS wins.

    And also? What's happening with the pic of the girl in the pink shirt? Is one of her boobs three times the size of the other?

  3. Oh wait, can I take my comment back? I forgot to read the fine print, hee hee.

    1. Hee hee!

      And I'm totally going to stitch this on a sampler (or write it on cardboard, whichever)and hang it in my hallway: "The one on the top floor ALWAYS wins."

  4. What..The..Fucking..Fuck? Who does she think she is with her high and mighty, my shit don't stink, look at my lip sneer like the cuntbag I am? Let me give you the absofuckinglutely best advice, obviously it didn't cure my tourette's today, but, people like her just twist my bitchometer!
    She WILL slip up...Oh yes, she will.. There will be something..Noise of some sort WILL come from that apartment..And when it does..BOOM! March your butt down there and give it right back. Bitches hate to be put in their rightful places. Maybe she will make nasty food smells too, and you can make horrific gagging sounds every time you enter and exit the building!


      (Tourettes is contagious, yes?)

      I think I'm going to start dropping things. Even more so than usual.

  5. I think that it is a good idea that you should just never have to get anything from the cupboards again. I mean... Problem solved, right?

    You can hire a manservant or a midget. Either way, your downstairs neighbor should chip in on the bill. Because, let's be honest, you are probably just slamming them due to the negative energy that bitch is radiating.

    That can really happen. I read it on the internet or something.




    2. The fact that you just wrote that makes it more true. THIS COULDN'T GET TRUER IF IT TRIED!!!!

  6. Even if you do slam things, she could've handled it differently. I would've said something really sarcastic, but then noticed I did it and realized she was right, but that I was right MORE because she shouldn't have been so cuntish about it.

    1. EXACTLY.

      Like Vesta said above: THE ONE ON THE TOP FLOOR ALWAYS WINS.

  7. I'm sorry but that's a dick neighbor move.... unless you're being extremely noisy super late at night or early in the morning ... it's kind of expected that you're going to make noise. It's part of life.

    1. It was only like 7 o'clock-ish. And they keep parking in MY parking space. I should have mentioned that.

      "Bitch, I'll stop slamming shit if you figure out where the hell to park, mmmkay?"

  8. Now that she has shown her face once, you can guaran-damn-tee she'll be back at your door for some damn thing. The TV will be a tiny bit too loud. The dog will THINK she heard the door, when the knocking was actually on TV. Something will set that bitch off again. And when it does, might I suggest:

    You: (smiling) Yes?
    Bitch McCunterson: (shitty faced) Can you stop making so much goddamn noise?!
    You: (still smiling) Nope. I sure can't. Guess you shouldn't have moved in on the bottom floor.
    Bitch McCunterson: (shocked faced) What?
    You: Yeah. Life's full of lessons. You just learned one. Also, park in my space again and your shit gets towed. Buh-bye now!

    Never stop smiling... never sound anything less than syrupy sweet no matter what venom you spit forth. ;)

  9. Dan should just wait on AND cleaning up all kitchen stuff?

  10. Take off all your cupboard doors & pile them in the hallway in front of HER door with a note containing two words:

  11. Um, I almost died at the last photo. I may have to steal that from you because there are all SORTS of blogs to be written on that one photo alone.

    Additionally, I had a neighbor who used to come knock on my door about once a day for 'stomping'. I just walk heavy I guess. I finally called my apt manager one day and made her come upstairs. We had a soda and I walked around and sure enough, up comes the lady from downstairs. I opened the door and she was talking about how I was stomping like a 'heard of cattle' and that if I didn't quiet down she was going to report me to the apt manager. The manager stepped from around the corner and waved at the neighbor. She ended up going downstairs to have a chat with her, as I was doing nothing of the sort.

    Anyway- I'm thankful to not have to deal with shit like that anymore. I can walk as hard as i want in my home.

  12. I'm moving back into an apartment ASAP (After Some Apple Pie), so I have a reason for Kiefer to do the dishes. You're brilliant.

  13. Ok. So you slam cabinets. Do you slam cabinets at 3am? Probably not. This is a dick move on her part. I had a nightmare neighbor like this, who actually filed a complaint against me because I would walk in my house. Seriously. That was her problem. She then explained to me that she knew I was the problem and not my husband because of my weight problem.


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