TANI'S TALES PART 1 (of 2)
Tani, one of the first Star Worz-iors, lives what could be called, if you were being kind, an interesting existence. Every now and then she likes to write about her encounters. As she herself says, these stories are better suited for a site like Star Worz than her own blog "I'll Get You My Pretty...", where she chronicles the adventures of internet idiots cruising the personals for idiot love. Tani and I are currently working on the outline for a book based on her site. It should be in the stores... before you know it. (there, that's vague enough)
Besides picking on idiots, Tani loves nothing more than being selected to Craigslist's "Best Of List" for her stories. So, if you enjoy the following story (and even if you don't) click here and then click on the "Best Of" marker in the upper right corner. Tani thanks you, her neighbors thank you, and I thank you.
Without further ado, here is "Sound Carries Funny: An Adventure In Mass Housing" by Tani.
So my neighbors and I have a relationship that is… not well. I live in a corner apartment in a complex. Across from my apartment is a concrete wall. Sound carries funny. So when I heard my neighbors having their semiweekly domestic brawl at 3 a.m. a month ago, I called the cops. Normally, I ignore their drama, but this time, she was shrieking, "You're choking me! Accck acccck Icantbreathe aaaccckkk!" and I figured I better at least give the local bubbas a heads up. Personally, I wish he'd just finish the job, but, as she is so fond of screeching at him, "You're not good for ANYTHING! You are USELESS!" I figured he'd just screw it up like he apparently screws everything else up, and I figured mediation might be in order. I told 911 it was the apartment ABOVE me, but like I said, sound carries funny. As it turns out, the brawlers live BELOW me. Long story short, the guy above me was hauled out of bed by insistent police knocking at 3 am, thrown down on the ground, cuffed, and his apartment searched while the couple below me, oblivious, kept choking each other. And I was too sheepish to call in a correction. Besides, if "Mr. Useless" really was trying to snuff his screechy girlfriend, it would have been accomplished LONG before San Diego's Finest appeared, so it was probably her usual histrionics.
At any rate, Karma kicked in this week, and the people above me got me back – without ever knowing I was the cause of their late-night rude awakening.
So I was sitting out on my balcony last Thursday, typing on my laptop, feet up on the railing, when I hear a sudden commotion. I hear people running around in the apartment above me, I hear a woman screeching, I hear a MAN screeching, and I hear another guy laughing wildly.
Then I hear the most frightening words in the English Language. "KILL IT! KILL IT! HURRY, BEFORE IT MOVES! KILL IT!"
I pause in my typing and look up at the bottom of the balcony above me. I sit with eyeballs raised for a moment, and then my attention deficit disorder kicked in and I went back to my typing.
Then I hear someone, (clearly a Liberal) scream, "NO! DON'T KILL IT! CAPTURE IT AND SET IT FREE OUTSIDE!"
Good Lord.
More running. More thumping. Then… "GOT IT! GOT IT! OPEN THE DOOR! QUICK!"
More shrieks. Then the screen door above me is flung open. With one final "EEEEEEK!" something is apparently lobbed overboard. I hear a male voice.
"See? We didn't have to kill it…this is much more humane th…"
At that point I stopped listening, because at that point, a tarantula landed on my foot.
Okay, in all truth, it probably was not a tarantula. It definitely had 8 legs, it definitely had way too many eyeballs to be normal, it definitely was HAIRY, and it was about two inches long. I think it was wearing a hairbow, and it possibly was even wearing a tiny little pair of tarantula reading glasses. I don't know. My glimpse of it was pretty quick.
As calmly as I could under the circumstances, I tried to think of a witty, sardonic reply like they do in the movies. I came up with "AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAaaaAAAAAaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAA!"
And I may have punctuated that with the occasional blasphemy.
Now, I have to segue here for a moment. Just about 2 weeks ago, I had a cursory conversation with my mother on the phone. She was insistent that I purchase a gun and a carrying permit because a) I go camping a lot. B) I am a single female living alone and c) I am a blonde female living less than 20 minutes from the Mexican border and she is POSITIVE that I am going to get sold into the white slave trade and D) I live in the 8 th largest city in the nation.
I tried to argue that the white slave trade, if it still exists, is NOT actively pursuing sarcastic, pudgy, women in their late twenties who clear 6 feet in shoes with thick soles. She didn't buy it.
Whatever. THIS is the ultimate reason I don't need to be packing heat. If I had had a gun on me when that spider landed, I would have shot my foot off first and THEN asked questions later.
The spider, most likely as perturbed as I was, decided his best option was to move. He just didn't know where. If he had asked, I could have offered a few suggestions, but he apparently didn't speak English (this happens a lot in border towns, btw.)
So he went for what looked like the safest area. Up the leg of my jeans. I haven't gotten out of my pants so fast since Spring Break 2000. But that's another story.
I shuck the trousers, and bolt inside for the broom. Apparently the spider has taken a liking to me, and it followed me in. I turn around, broom in hand, to see the spider calmly standing on the wall near the ceiling of my living room. I approach, broom at the ready.
Up closer, I had to do the spider dance FOUR times to make sure I had gotten the "willies" out of my system before I swung. I am sure the neighbors across the courtyard LOVED the sight of the hysterical blonde running around in her unmentionables wielding a broom and screeching at her wall.
And yes, I bashed the boogers out of that spider. ALL OVER THE WALL. My security deposit? It's gone. My peace of mind? Priceless.
Now, my question for everyone is this… do I leave the spider guts on the wall so future (bleeeaggghhh) spiders see it and know this is not a safe zone? Or do I clean them off and try to put this whole traumatizing incident behind me? Because that involves touching spider guts, which I would like to avoid.
And to my neighbors? I am sorry I called the cops to the upstairs place by mistake.
Oh, and in the future, keep the yelling to a minimum, okay?
Oh, and ejecting spiders is not more humane; come see my wall if you don't believe me.
Oh, and die in a fire. All of you.
And there you have it. Look for Part 2 of Tani's adventures soon. And don't forget to vote.
Besides picking on idiots, Tani loves nothing more than being selected to Craigslist's "Best Of List" for her stories. So, if you enjoy the following story (and even if you don't) click here and then click on the "Best Of" marker in the upper right corner. Tani thanks you, her neighbors thank you, and I thank you.
Without further ado, here is "Sound Carries Funny: An Adventure In Mass Housing" by Tani.
So my neighbors and I have a relationship that is… not well. I live in a corner apartment in a complex. Across from my apartment is a concrete wall. Sound carries funny. So when I heard my neighbors having their semiweekly domestic brawl at 3 a.m. a month ago, I called the cops. Normally, I ignore their drama, but this time, she was shrieking, "You're choking me! Accck acccck Icantbreathe aaaccckkk!" and I figured I better at least give the local bubbas a heads up. Personally, I wish he'd just finish the job, but, as she is so fond of screeching at him, "You're not good for ANYTHING! You are USELESS!" I figured he'd just screw it up like he apparently screws everything else up, and I figured mediation might be in order. I told 911 it was the apartment ABOVE me, but like I said, sound carries funny. As it turns out, the brawlers live BELOW me. Long story short, the guy above me was hauled out of bed by insistent police knocking at 3 am, thrown down on the ground, cuffed, and his apartment searched while the couple below me, oblivious, kept choking each other. And I was too sheepish to call in a correction. Besides, if "Mr. Useless" really was trying to snuff his screechy girlfriend, it would have been accomplished LONG before San Diego's Finest appeared, so it was probably her usual histrionics.
At any rate, Karma kicked in this week, and the people above me got me back – without ever knowing I was the cause of their late-night rude awakening.
So I was sitting out on my balcony last Thursday, typing on my laptop, feet up on the railing, when I hear a sudden commotion. I hear people running around in the apartment above me, I hear a woman screeching, I hear a MAN screeching, and I hear another guy laughing wildly.
Then I hear the most frightening words in the English Language. "KILL IT! KILL IT! HURRY, BEFORE IT MOVES! KILL IT!"
I pause in my typing and look up at the bottom of the balcony above me. I sit with eyeballs raised for a moment, and then my attention deficit disorder kicked in and I went back to my typing.
Then I hear someone, (clearly a Liberal) scream, "NO! DON'T KILL IT! CAPTURE IT AND SET IT FREE OUTSIDE!"
Good Lord.
More running. More thumping. Then… "GOT IT! GOT IT! OPEN THE DOOR! QUICK!"
More shrieks. Then the screen door above me is flung open. With one final "EEEEEEK!" something is apparently lobbed overboard. I hear a male voice.
"See? We didn't have to kill it…this is much more humane th…"
At that point I stopped listening, because at that point, a tarantula landed on my foot.
Okay, in all truth, it probably was not a tarantula. It definitely had 8 legs, it definitely had way too many eyeballs to be normal, it definitely was HAIRY, and it was about two inches long. I think it was wearing a hairbow, and it possibly was even wearing a tiny little pair of tarantula reading glasses. I don't know. My glimpse of it was pretty quick.
As calmly as I could under the circumstances, I tried to think of a witty, sardonic reply like they do in the movies. I came up with "AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAaaaAAAAAaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAA!"
And I may have punctuated that with the occasional blasphemy.
Now, I have to segue here for a moment. Just about 2 weeks ago, I had a cursory conversation with my mother on the phone. She was insistent that I purchase a gun and a carrying permit because a) I go camping a lot. B) I am a single female living alone and c) I am a blonde female living less than 20 minutes from the Mexican border and she is POSITIVE that I am going to get sold into the white slave trade and D) I live in the 8 th largest city in the nation.
I tried to argue that the white slave trade, if it still exists, is NOT actively pursuing sarcastic, pudgy, women in their late twenties who clear 6 feet in shoes with thick soles. She didn't buy it.
Whatever. THIS is the ultimate reason I don't need to be packing heat. If I had had a gun on me when that spider landed, I would have shot my foot off first and THEN asked questions later.
The spider, most likely as perturbed as I was, decided his best option was to move. He just didn't know where. If he had asked, I could have offered a few suggestions, but he apparently didn't speak English (this happens a lot in border towns, btw.)
So he went for what looked like the safest area. Up the leg of my jeans. I haven't gotten out of my pants so fast since Spring Break 2000. But that's another story.
I shuck the trousers, and bolt inside for the broom. Apparently the spider has taken a liking to me, and it followed me in. I turn around, broom in hand, to see the spider calmly standing on the wall near the ceiling of my living room. I approach, broom at the ready.
Up closer, I had to do the spider dance FOUR times to make sure I had gotten the "willies" out of my system before I swung. I am sure the neighbors across the courtyard LOVED the sight of the hysterical blonde running around in her unmentionables wielding a broom and screeching at her wall.
And yes, I bashed the boogers out of that spider. ALL OVER THE WALL. My security deposit? It's gone. My peace of mind? Priceless.
Now, my question for everyone is this… do I leave the spider guts on the wall so future (bleeeaggghhh) spiders see it and know this is not a safe zone? Or do I clean them off and try to put this whole traumatizing incident behind me? Because that involves touching spider guts, which I would like to avoid.
And to my neighbors? I am sorry I called the cops to the upstairs place by mistake.
Oh, and in the future, keep the yelling to a minimum, okay?
Oh, and ejecting spiders is not more humane; come see my wall if you don't believe me.
Oh, and die in a fire. All of you.
And there you have it. Look for Part 2 of Tani's adventures soon. And don't forget to vote.
posted by Matt Worzala at
8:24 PM
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