Saturday, September 18, 2004
 

Random Acts of Grouchiness

I hate the local neighborhood association. The street where I live is mostly rental properties, but everything behind it is suburbs. The neighborhood newsletter, which they give us, is always filled with attempts to block the creation of more rental properties, how renters should "do their part" to keep things lookin' purty, how renters are solely responsible for fast traffic in the area (hah-- everyone and their cousin in this city uses the road in question as a cut-through), etc, etc.

Today, as I was dumping my trash, I was accosted by a rabid neighborhood watchdog. To make a long story short, she was disputing my right to use the (city) trashcans where I was putting my trash and disapproving of the manner in which I used said facilities. She harangued me for at least five minutes, which is a long time to be bawled out by a total stranger. The encounter left me thoroughly soured.

I hate this not-in-my-backyard attitude these suburbanites have toward renters. First off, this crowd should be grateful, because we're a quiet, clean, nondisruptive bunch. We have potted plants and cute doormats and door wreaths and never, ever, ever have loud parties. No one even plays loud music. No one has Christmas decorations up year-round. No one guns motorcycle engines. In other words, a crackhouse this ain't.

But boy, did I ever feel like a down-and-out crack whore by the end of this. I could feel my hair turning peroxide blonde with several inches of roots; I felt my shorts and t-shirt transform into raunchy denim cutoffs and a halter top; I felt a serious case of DTs coming on: in general, I felt like dirt. I'm not the sort of person who tells a total stranger where to stick in, particularly in the presence of said person's daughter, who looked about eight.

Why do people do these things in front of their kids?

Moving on, next topic: Miss America pageant. All I wanna say is that I knew one of the contestants from back in the day, and she's a sour, unpleasant, backstabbing, pretentious individual. I'm told by reliable sources that both her mother and grandmother are the same way.

So I suppose it sounds like I hate the world (more than usual-- speaking of sour) today. The encounter with the watchdog woman just left a bad taste in my mouth. It's just not nice to be told in not-so-many-words that you're bringing down land values.

Sinus pain and a long, long, loonnng day of reading don't help, either.

To conclude: Nothing spells "slut" like Paris Hilton. [note: in case you've missed my rant, I bear a permanent grudge against her for having so much money and yet dressing so distastefully]

Reading: E.L. Doctorow, City of God
Listening: nuthin
Current Obsession: (still) Lipton Diet Raspberry tea
Alice: raises land values, baby.

Elvisette philosophized at 10:08 PM