Day #236: I'm Losing It

Crash. Boom. Thud. Stomp. Jump. Bump. Slam. Rumble. Little feet running.

Crash. Boom. Thud. Stomp. Jump. Bump. Slam. Rumble.  Little feet running.

 Crash. Boom. Thud. Stomp. Jump. Bump. Slam. Rumble. Little feet running.

The neighbors are getting to me. 

I swear that Shrek and Fiona and their two donkeys live upstairs.  It's like living under a damn bowling alley.

Lately I have been trying to stall and come home late so that by the time I get home there will be less of it to hear. But since the days are longer they are staying up longer.  Arggghhhh!!  When the weekend comes, ooh forget about it.  All day starting at 7:30am.  I wanna buy their azzes season passes to Gymboree or Six Flags just to get them to leave for a little while.  It's nice outside and they just stay inside all damn day on the weekends it seems.  There's a park nearby but they won't go!  Give them brats some fresh air and me a break why dontcha?  I truly dread the weekends.  I try to watch something funny to take my mind off them, but I can't even watch my Jamie Foxx reruns in peace.  I just end up leaving and sitting in Starbucks or on some random bench looking homeless and shyt. 

Sometimes I sit in my apartment and just listen to them with my arms folded looking up at the ceiling.  No TV.  No radio.  Just listening to them.  Asking myself why did I move to this f*n place. 

I even sit there and scheme about how I could get to them move.  I thought about putting stink bombs outside of their door.  Or maybe I'll put a picture of a naked Latina mami with a love letter to the man so the wife would get mad and take her brats and leave.  I even thought about getting up at 3am and going outside and throwing rocks and eggs and their windows.  "If I can't rest, you can't either dammit!" 

Hmmmm.  Sometimes I think they leave the stroller outside the door.  That's what I think I hear rolling back and forth across the floor sometimes.  I think I'm gonna throw it out of the window one of these days.  Then I'll race downstairs with a bat and finish it off.  Seriously.

I called the cops to tell them to quiet the f*ck down, but I think it's hopeless.  As soon as the cops left they went right back to it.  I guess I am gonna just move, and re-pack up all that shyt that I just unpacked in February.  I mean what if another noisy posse of motherfuccas move up there right?  So fuckit.  I'm out and I'm not gonna blog it about no mo'.  The bankruptcy thing will probably make getting a new place harder.  Ouch, just thought about that.  Unless.........I'm willing to move to the hood where they don't check like that.  All my broke and no credit having friends find spots over there with no problem.  I don't think I can do that though; summer is just starting and they ackin' up already. 

In other news....

I think this Filipino dude is trying to mack?  I met him at this meetup.com event for business folk.  I had met this other dude that I was feeling and sent him an email but he didn't respond.  Instead the Filipino guy was on it.  It always goes like that doesn't it?

Anyway, he's like texting me on the daily.  I'm not sure yet if he's trying to mack though?  Maybe he just needs a hanging partner in NYC.  I could be game for that.  I need to waste time before going home anyway.  We hung out once or twice, and he took me to this NICE bar that overlooked the city.  It was pretty fly -- and pretty white except for the big Black security guard.  Good spot for creepin' too.  LOL.

Bad thing though was that I kept looking at the railing and thinking about falling over it or jumping or imagining the guy who jumped off one a few weeks ago.  I had to look away and focus on the buildings in the distance.  Not good.  Those rooftops things are fly but put thoughts in my head.  I shouldn't go to those places anymore.  I guess I should tell the therapist that, but you gotta be careful what you tell them cuz they'll send you to the hospital.  It happened to my brother once. 

Dude is nice to me.  There's just one problem though, his teeth game.  He has those Filipino teeth.  Overbite for days.

Sigh.  I complain about everybody. 

It's the DIARY OF A COMPLAINING ASS FEMALE.