Bullitt's Bros

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Not to be missed

First, this is too important to pass up.

In other news, have I told you that my landlady and one of my neighbors are involved in a cold war?

Allow me to elaborate.

Our landlady--well the superintendant of the building, actually--is an Irish Catholic. Very similar to my mom, except unlike my mom she hates Jews. Well, 'hates' is too strong a word; 'suspects' is better. (See, she works for some orthodox Jews who like to cut corners. So really, she's just complaining about them by implicating all Jews. And she's anti-semitic.)

Anyway, the tenant she's at war with--let's call her "L" for short--is Jewish, I'm pretty sure. So there's tension on that front. And she's crazy. I should have probably said that right up front. And she suspects all Russians of stealing her towels.

Anyway, let me tell you what I know. Most of the people who read this site know me personally, and no how amicable I can be. Plus, let's not kid ourselves, I'm a tall drink of water (and not, as some people say, "stick-legs with a fat gut"). So, these two older women have decided to make me the locus of their complaints. Here's an example.

My ceiling started to develop some water-damage. So I asked the super to do something about it. She said okay, and sent her husband to the apartment above mine. Well, L lives in the apartment above mine and she hates the super and her husband. So she was unwilling to do much, and instead used his appearance as an occasion to complain about them. Or so I was told by my superintendent, who came down to report her failure and blame L for being a "bear" (and the Jews for not paying her and her husband more). She told me to try to speak to L directly, which I was not looking forward to, but not too much longer after she left, who should knock at my door but L. She told me that the super and her husband are terrible, they don't like to do anything, and when the super's husband fixes things, he does a poor job. Instead, I should call the building's Jewish landowners directly if I ever want anything fixed. Also, while I'm talking, I should ask the landowners to do something about the Russians, because L is pretty sure they're stealing her towels.

This was the beginning of a bad precedent. After that, L decided to come to my apartment regularly to complain about the goings-on in the buildings. She blames the "single men" (read: gays) in the building for hiring the Russians who steal the towels (it's the circle of life, I say). When the heating in the building broke for half a night (admittedly, during the winter), she came to my room and told me to call the landowners to do something about the problem, because (a) the super and her husband couldn't/wouldn't do anything about it; and (b) L had (no surprise here) called the landowners far too many times for them to take her seriously anymore. So I had to expend my credibility to do this.

That's one example. The latest one has to do with my cooking. Apparently L has been complaining to the super about my cooking garlic. The delicious smell is permeating her apartment, I guess. The super came to tell me about this charge, and then exhorted me to "cook more garlic", talked to me about other things for about 15 minutes, and then left. Then, last night, she yelled into my window, "I hope you're cooking more garlic!" to which I replied, "I'm not getting involved!" (no, I didn't; I just informed her I wasn't cooking more garlic).

Now, I know how one's of the Hulk's greatest supervillains, "The Confider"* felt. This kind of pressure would drive me to crime too.

*--Note: The Confider?: not a real supervillain. Moreover, he would probably become the friend of someone who had a secret identity--that way that superhero could confide in The Confider, only to his detriment later.


  • Bob - you are amazing.

    Reminds me of a lady that used to live across the hall in my old apartment building. She tried to exit her apartment by using an axe one night. The next day she showed me the area in her apartment where she would paint oil masterpieces of Jesus in the morning light.

    Good times.

    By Blogger BIG, at 1:18 AM  

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