The Infamous Cheez-its Incident

Jan. 13th, 2005, Conversation via AIM. 
Me [9:42 P.M.]: Hey, I almost got arrested tonight.
Me [9:42 P.M.]: lol
Friend [9:42 P.M.]: O,O
Friend [9:42 P.M.]: wha???
Me [9:42 P.M.]: Yeah, I had an entertaining night.
Friend [9:42 P.M.]: what happened???
Me [9:42 P.M.]: I'll have to write about it. I threatened to kill some bitch that lives in my sister in laws apartment. She's a psycho. 
Me [9:43 P.M.]: I scared the shit out of her.
Me [9:43 P.M.]: She doesn't have a phone or furniture. 
Friend [9:43 P.M.]: good lord. lol
Me [9:44 P.M.]: So, I knew if I pounded on her door, she'd have no recourse.
Me [9:44 P.M.]: I know, my life is a fucking whirlwind.
Me [9:44 P.M.]: It's kind of a long story ....
Friend [9:44 P.M.]: Well you know I'll be interested in hearing it when you have time to tell it
Me [9:44 P.M.]: Suffice it to say, the chick won't be destroying my families property any more.
Me [9:45 P.M.]: I even spit cheez it crakers on her door
Me [9:45 P.M.]: lol
Friend [9:45 P.M.]: LOL
Friend [9:45 P.M.]: ewwwwwwww... lol
Me [9:45 P.M.]: And the best part about it, she has no idea who I am and the cops didn't do too much investigating. She refused to open the door, so I damn near busted it down while screaming and threatening her.
Friend [9:46 P.M.]: wow
Me [9:46 P.M.]: I think said ...
Friend [9:46 P.M.]: Yes??? :)
Me [9:47 P.M.]: "If you put your fucking hands on one more thing that isn't yours, I'm going to put my hands all over you, bitch. I'll fucking strangle you to death the next time I see you .."
Me [9:47 P.M.]: Amongst other things
Friend [9:47 P.M.]: holy shit, Lilli!! lol
Friend [9:47 P.M.]: Are you feeling a little, uh, riled tonight? lol
Me [9:47 P.M.]: All while eating out of a box of Cheez its
Friend [9:47 P.M.]: LOL
Me [9:48 P.M.]: I wanted to spit them in her face, that's why I brought the box with me when I drove over.
Friend  [9:48 P.M.]: but she wouldn't answer the door. priceless
Me [9:49 P.M.]: I was very scary sounding. I had a crowd in the hallway, all of the other neighbors who were afraid to fucking approach her about her tampering with their personal items wanted to hear me put her in her place.
Me [9:49 P.M.]: I was called in!
Friend [9:49 P.M.]: this kills me! I'm tearing up. Oh, my kidney hurts. lol
Me [9:49 P.M.]: They knew I'd take care of the situation. The bitch is afraid to come out of her apartment.
Me [9:50 P.M.]: When I first knocked, she didn't answer
Me [9:50 P.M.]: The second knock, she asked, "Who is it?"
Friend  [9:50 P.M.]: was your mouth full of cheezits already?
Friend  [9:50 P.M.]: lol
Me [9:50 P.M.]: I said, "A friendly neighbor" in a not so friendly tone, yes, with a mouth full of cheez its. 
Friend [9:50 P.M.]: LOL
Me [9:51 P.M.]: I had stuffed them in my mouth so that they were ready to spray.
Friend  [9:51 P.M.]: cheezits... I'm dying here
Me [9:51 P.M.]: I know right!
Me [9:51 P.M.]: Told you I'm Randall from Clerks
Friend  [9:51 P.M.]: awesome!!
Me [9:51 P.M.]: And she answered back, "Welll, I'm not answering."
Me [9:51 P.M.]: That's when I went off
Me [9:51 P.M.]: I couldn't tell you everything I said ...
Friend [9:51 P.M.]: I'd have payed money to see that

Me [9:52 P.M.]: So, after I left, since she doesn't have a phone ...

Me [9:53 P.M.]: she walks to the police station!
Friend [9:53 P.M.]: LOL
Friend [9:53 P.M.]: Man, you could have waited for her and nailed her with cheezits
Me [9:53 P.M.]: The cops come, and I'm LONG gone.
Me [9:53 P.M.]: I knew I had to get out of dodge
Friend [9:53 P.M.]: yeah
Me [9:54 P.M.]: Right, so I get a call from one of the neighbors who works with hubby ...
Me [9:54 P.M.]: and he tells me the cops are asking all kinds of questions ....
Friend [9:54 P.M.]: yeah?
Me [9:54 P.M.]: They want to search his apartment
Me [9:54 P.M.]: I'm thinking, O great. One of these morons are going to slip up and spill TMI
Me [9:55 P.M.]: ...and here I left my DNA all over the door
Me [9:55 P.M.]: lol
Friend [9:55 P.M.]: lol
Friend [9:55 P.M.]: But it turned up squat?
Me [9:55 P.M.]: I left the open box of Cheez its in my sister in laws apartment ...
Friend [9:55 P.M.]: doh!
Me [9:56 P.M.]: They would have wanted to search her pad, but luckily, I made her come home with me. I knew the cops were going to nose around
Me [9:56 P.M.]: After the cops spent a little more time with the chick, they realized that she is CRAZY
Friend [9:56 P.M.]: So do you think everyone was telling the cops she had it coming?
Me [9:56 P.M.]: She's already being evicted for destroying property
Friend [9:57 P.M.]: sweet
Me [9:57 P.M.]: The cops have to notify the landlord that they were called....
Me [9:57 P.M.]: He comes by and RIPS HER A NEW ASSHOLE!
Friend [9:57 P.M.]: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Me [9:57 P.M.]: He's pissed at her for starting trouble
Me [9:57 P.M.]: He doesn't believe a word she says ...
Me [9:58 P.M.]: Last month, she supposedly had a stalker ..
Me [9:58 P.M.]: The landlord had to put all these new locks on the door, there was a whole bunch of drama
Friend [9:58 P.M.]: oh goody...
Me [9:58 P.M.]: And I don't even live in this building!
Me [9:59 P.M.]: Some of the shit this lady was doing to her neighbors is OUTLANDISH
Friend [9:59 P.M.]: oh this is funny as hell
Friend [9:59 P.M.]: what was she doing?
Me [9:59 P.M.]: She's certifiably PSYCHO
Me [9:59 P.M.]: Well, I'm not going into all of that, too much typing ...
Friend [10:00 P.M.]: Another day?
Me [10:00 P.M.]: Suffice it to say, you would rather have a "cat lady" living in your complex
Me [10:00 P.M.]: Or even a drug dealer
Friend [10:00 P.M.]: haha, nice
Me [10:00 P.M.]: The bitch tried to burn the place down once
Friend [10:01 P.M.]: good grief
Me [10:01 P.M.]: I don't know why she wasn't in a nut house
Me [10:01 P.M.]: Any way
Me [10:01 P.M.]: I hope I entertained you a little. I've got to run! 
Friend [10:01 P.M.]: definitely
Friend [10:01 P.M.]: :D
Friend [10:01 P.M.]: You cracked me up

Freak Magnet

I must have Freak Magnet tattooed on my forehead in invisible ink that can only be seen by sexual predators and perverts.

Little Johnny & I went to the grocery store and, as we were finishing our shopping in the deli, a weirdo, that we had both first noticed near us in the dairy aisle 10 minutes before, appeared at my shoulder and started interjecting into our conversation about cheese. I brushed him off and we walked away. He followed. Even Little Johnny noticed we were being stalked. We started zigzagging around the store in a completely random pattern, but still, the guy trailed us.

We were finally able to lose him by breaking into a coordinated jog and darting through a crowd in the seasonal aisle. That's when we decided to very stealthily loop around and begin following him. He was on a frenzied tear, head darting in every which direction except for ours, looking for us, like a predator desperately chasing a fading scent of blood.

After awhile, he appeared to give up and got in line at the checkout. That's when we jumped into an empty que and quickly started putting our stuff on the conveyor belt. The lecherous bastard spotted us again, left his cart in his line and got behind us, just staring. I eyed him down with as much indignation as I could muster and he stuttered, "Just checking to see if that was you," and darted back into his lane.

What a sick comment, in and of itself! "You"? As in who? Oh, yeah! The lady with the preteen that you were just stalking! I was absolutely blown away that such a thing came out of his mouth! The walking freak show confessed to his pursuit of us with that statement alone! I was speechless!

Little Johnny was totally freaked out by that point. Luckily, we were able to get out of there before him and, with a very real sense of urgency, we jetted to my vehicle, bags in hand, and buckled in. I've never been so thankful for my limo black privacy tinting as I was at that moment! We were able to watch him exit the store and meander around the parking lot on the hunt for us once again without having to worry about being seen.

We waited until he was well away from our location and pulled out of the shopping center in shock. That's when Little Johnny turned to me and said, "Wow. You can't trust anyone these days." Probably the perfect lesson to take away from such a bizarre experience.

Mama Bear Ain't Scared

A mother sends Little Jane, her 4th grader, to school with an expensive piece of electronic equipment. On Friday afternoon, Little Johnny, a 6th grader, asks to borrow Little Jane's expensive smart phone to shoot a video on the school bus. Little Jane says yes and hands it over. Little Johnny then accidentally drops the phone, which causes a big ol' crack in the screen. Who's to blame? Little Johnny for the accident? Little Jane for allowing Little Johnny to use her phone in the first place? Little Jane's mother for trusting a 4th grader with an expensive piece of electronic equipment at school? All of the above? Who should be financially responsible for the broken phone?


Well, Little Johnny's mother got an email from the Principal today:

Dear Parents,

Little Johnny informed me today that you have decided not to reimburse Little Jane's parents for the phone he broke on Friday. I asked him to have you put that in writing so that I could have a record. The phone is unfortunately smashed at the top and should be replaced, but Little Jane's mother told me that she did not want any trouble, so I am not pursuing this, other than getting your statement in writing. I hope, however, that there has been some consequence at home for his actions. Even though I do believe this was accidental, there is still a broken phone.

Sincerely,

Principal Priss

Little Johnny's Mother wrote back: 

Miss Priss,

I'm not going to pay for the phone for a few reasons. Firstly, it was an accident and they should have insurance (on an expensive piece of electronic equipment belonging to a fourth grader) which would cover any repairs. Little Johnny does not have a cell phone, much less a smart phone, because children at this age do not need one, nor are they generally responsible enough to take care of them. If Little Johnny loaned his Kindle to another child at school, for instance, and that child broke it, I would hold Little Johnny responsible for said breakage and never dream of asking that child's parent to pay for the damage. I'm sorry that Little Jane's phone is broken but hopefully she'll also learn from this experience and think twice before she allows other kids to play with her toys. That being said, we have already dealt with Little Johnny about this situation. 

Thanks,

Mr. & Mrs. Little Johnny 

What the mother sings to the cradle goes all the way down to the coffin.

It's so strange to be going through life perfectly fine and dandy. For me, anyway. I try to forget my painful past, my traumatic childhood, my misspent youth. The older I get, the easier it becomes. Then, out of the blue, I'll wake up and my heart will remind me that it's forever broken, that I'll never be completely whole, that I have learned to "live half a life". 


The strangest, most random of things will remind me. Be it a song or a passing reflection of myself, looking so similar to my mother, in the window of a store front. Either way, when it happens, it's an emotional gut punch. Today I fully understand the meaning behind the very famous quote; "What the mother sings to the cradle goes all the way down to the coffin." 


I know it's something that will dog my steps until the day I die. 


Brokenness, unspoken.
Captivity, self-inflicted. 
Can't concentrate when reality is twisted. 
Fun house mirrors morph into dreadful inflections, 
potential futures cast ghastly reflections. 
Can't seem to change direction 
or see past illusionary imperfection.  

Took the wide path toward the left.
The floor dropped out from underneath careless feet.
Falling, calling, echoing into emptiness;
a foretaste of eternal loneliness.
The bitterness of which is reminiscent of death,
life's great equalizer, there is no contest. 
A finality to so many pointless conquests.  

Lived, loved, lost.
Laughed, cried, humbled selfish pride. 
Through winter's thaw to fall's first frost,
spring brought rain and summer always came.  
Every season, without treason, 
taken for granted, still the sun shone on. 
One morn will dawn and I'll be gone.  

No lament can resurrect the dead. 
No hope can soothe a soul's regret. 
No yearning can prevent decay.  
No light can penetrate the grave. 
No gold can erase the lifelong debt 
that each one must pay 
for the privilege of even a single day. 

Just call me your (not so friendly) neighborhood Wonder Woman.

We moved into this apartment building nearly one year ago and we're moving out in less than a month. The days cannot pass quickly enough. If I needed a final reason to forgo apartment living forever, God gave it to me today.

My BFF lives in Minnesota and she's been so excited about my decision to finally become a homeowner that she bought two gardening books, that are specific to the area in which I live, and had them shipped to me. Last week, I received the first one. Unfortunately, I didn't get the joy of opening it myself as someone stole it from the top of the mailbox in the lobby and tore into it before I even knew it had arrived. My husband found it on the floor in the hallway, ripped open and discarded.

Naturally, I was irritated. This wasn't the first time my mail has been opened or flat out stolen but I figured I'd never be certain of the culprit as there are so many people living in our complex. I told my BFF about the incident and she was concerned. This was only the first of two shipments and she was really hoping that the next one wouldn't vanish forever and for good.

Needless to say, I've been on the lookout when I can be. Today was my day off, I was running errands, and happened to be coming in and out of the building bringing in groceries right after the mailman made his daily delivery. On my umpteenth trip back out to my car, I spotted a neighbor that I've seen around the property quite frequently, always trying to bum cigarettes, standing in front of the mailboxes. I also noticed two packages on top of said mailboxes.

I quickly glanced at the name on the big manilla envelope and saw that it was addressed to someone by the name of "Arran." I said to the neighbor, "Nope, not me. Is it yours?" She replied, "No." I zipped back out the door and figured I would check the name on the other package on my way back in since the woman was blocking my access to it at that particular moment.

I was outside at my car for all of 60 seconds. When I came back in, the woman was walking toward her apartment with both packages in her arms. I said, "Are those yours?" She replied, "Yes." I then asked, "So, your name is Arran?" She replied, "Yes." I knew right then and there that I had caught the lying bitch red handed. I finished with the groceries and within 10 minutes, my husband went out into the hall to check out the scene of the crime. Sure enough, my second book was tossed out in the hall devoid of its original  packaging with the packing slip slipped between the pages. I snapped.

I looked out my window and spotted the building's maintenance man in the parking lot. I told him the story through the screen and he said, "You'd better call the landlord," then he looked up and said, "Oh, here she is now!" As luck would have it, Jen was here showing an apartment. I ran down and repeated the story for the first of many times. She couldn't believe it because she had just been handling a complaint from another tenant in the building. A St. Patrick's Day card that her mother had sent was stolen, cut open, and tossed in front of her door on Friday, sans the $50 giftcard that had been inside of it. The gal's name was Rae-Ann and she was more than happy to come down and talk to the police after I called 911.

An officer and a detective showed up, I told him the culprit lived in apartment 108, that there would almost certainly be evidence with my name on it in her trash, and they went up to confront her. Sure enough, they found my packaging as well as the other package addressed to Arran. Turns out the thief's name is actually  Annabelle. I hid in a door alcove like a crazed stalker and listened to the entire interrogation. The dipshit flat out lied and claimed that Arran had asked her to pick up her mail. The officer then said, "Did she tell you to open it, too?" Annabelle was stuttering ass stupid from that point on. Moments later, the scumbag was taken out of the building in cuffs and stuffed in the back of a squad car.

I was asked to identify her as the woman I encountered in the hallway, which I did quite gladly. I wouldn't have hesitated to point my finger (or my fist) directly into her face, that's how little I care what that piece of shit thinks about me. I don't shy away from confrontation and it takes an awful lot to intimidate me. I've been dealing with trash like her my entire life, having grown up in one of the worst neighborhoods in Delaware County, and I'm not afraid of her ilk. I believe in justice being served and I'm more than happy to do my part.

After that, Rae-Ann and I had to go down to the Upper Darby police station to give our written statements. The detective was quite honest with us about the fact that he probably wouldn't be able to hold her due to the types of misdemeanor charges that she was facing. Though opening other people's mail is a Federal Offense, the local police can't bring that hammer down on her no good, lying head. He was planning to interrogate her to see if she was stupid enough to admit to her crimes, which I knew she would be, and then go from there.

Once we were through at the police station, Rae-Ann and I decided to join forces and made a trip to visit our Post Master. He brought us into his office and assured us that he would pursue Federal charges against the criminal, especially because there had been a number of similar incidents reported in our building which fit her pattern of theft.

Our landlord was also livid. It turns out Annabelle isn't even on the lease of the apartment she's been residing in. She's been staying there under the guise of "caretaker" for the older woman that lives there. However, the truth of the matter is that they're lovers and Annabelle has been taking advantage of her girlfriend's clueless kindness for a very long time. She's stolen jewelry and pawned it in order to feed her crack addiction. Of course, I didn't find any of this out until I posted this paper in the hallway:

Have you had mail stolen?
A woman was arrested this morning after being caught red handed stealing packages that did not belong to her from on top of the mailbox. Several neighbors have come forward and the police are trying to build a better case. If you are missing something or have had mail opened and thrown back into the hallway, please contact Detectives at the UD Police Department @ **********. We want this flagrant thief to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law! Please, come forward with any information that would help make that possible!


 That's where I ran into another victim, the Arran that Annabelle claimed to be during her act of thievery. She filled me in on the neighborhood gossip (that I must confess to be completely clueless about as I keep to myself and barely acknowledge the fact that my neighbors even exist). 


Rae-Ann also filled me in on more on her way out the door to work just moments ago in this note:

Shortly after you left, Jen called me. She told me that the woman would no longer be allowed on the property, but as you had told me, she discovered she could not legally do that due to Pennsylvania law. So, Jen filed to evict Annabelle and she also told the woman on the lease that if Annabelle returns, then she could be evicted as well. Jen also found out that Annabelle was arrested in 2002 for theft, but since it was so long ago, the police don't care. The detective is probably not going to charge the woman until he investigates the situation more and he can advise her not to return but cannot force her to heed his advice. 


Rae-Ann


PS- After I wrote this, Jen called and said that Annabelle admitted to everything and said that she probably will not return to the apartment, but if she needs to get her things, the police will escort her. 


So, as usual, the justice system sucks. It appears that there are more laws made to protect the perpetrator  than the victim. I may actually have to come face to face with this lowlife at any time. Well, bring it. Let that crack smoking joke come at me. I'll bust her right in her double chinned chops. Let her say one effing thing to me. I'll dial 911 so fast, her empty head will spin. In fact, let her so much as look at me sideways. I'll call the cops and report her for harassment. 


To add insult to disappointment, people are gathering in the hallway to whisper to one another. As I walked by one of their little chatty Cathy sessions, I heard one say to the other, "Is that her?" AS IF I'M THE FUCKING CRIMINAL. Yeah, fuckwads. I'm HER, alright. I'm the neighbor that's looking out for your best interests. I'm the Wonder Woman that shut shit down up in here with my Lasso of Truth. OK, that's a little over glorified, but hell. Let me have my moment of triumph. The law has done little enough to satisfy my thirst for justice. I may as well enjoy the afterglow of catching the ho.


Update: On Tuesday, March 27- So, I get home after a long, hard day at work and step into my apartment building. I'm in the hallway, unlocking my door, when the mail stealing culprit's gal pal yells out, "LYING ASS BITCHES UP IN HERE!" I stopped short, door halfway opened, and hollered back, "THIEVING ASS BITCHES UP IN HERE," and punctuated the statement by slamming the door behind me.

I ate chocolate sauce off of a porn star.

2007 was a crazy year. I was 25 and in the middle of what I refer to as "My Quarter Life Crisis." 


One of my favorite quotes from that year pretty much illustrates where my life was going:
"I'm exhausted from partying, dude. I spent four hours and most of my money at a strip club last night. I ate chocolate sauce off of a porn star. The last thing I feel like doing is running around all over creation at the beck and call of an institutionalized lunatic. I'm fucking done." 


After an ugly, if temporary, break up, my life was a whirlwind of what I considered highly entertaining fun and debauchery. The summer of 2007 was one hell of a ride. I explored and experimented and indulged myself in ways I'd only imagined. In short, I allowed myself to wallow in selfishness and sensation. 


After an ever growing laundry list of sin and misbehavior, I was able to finally start looking at the bigger picture. I slowed down long enough to ask, "Where do I want to be six, twelve & twenty four months down the line? Where do I see myself five, ten or fifteen years from now?" 

When I asked myself such questions, I realized what the answer was not. I didn't want to be a washed up party girl. I didn't want to end up old and alone, having lost the only man I ever truly loved. That was the worst fate I could imagine enduring, actually. Most importantly, I didn't want to have to honestly explain to my son why I threw away my marriage to his beloved & devoted father. 


Bottom line; I didn't want to lose my husband. I wanted to fight for him, for us, and our family. I realized that I needed him in my life, that my day to day existence was, and still is, damn near intolerable unless things are "right" between us. Though we were split up, I never once claimed to cease loving him...  because I didn't. True love simply won't go away, despite whatever concerted efforts one makes to abolish and destroy such feelings. 

All of the distractions and misadventures failed to serve their true purpose because, at the end of the day, when I laid my weary head down upon my pillow, the world had lost its luster. The hollow darkness descended, leaving me empty, morose and all the more cynical from the sheer meaninglessness of it all. My heart, in those candid moments, spoke the truth that my stubborn brain and untamed spirit refused to heed. My life had completely fallen apart. In a way, it had to. Otherwise we never would have been able to start over and rebuild our relationship from scratch. 


The happy ending? Well. I am grounded now. I feel it in my soul. I have no desire to be back out on the scene, partying, as my husband once said, "like a teenager." I flew, I fell. I made my mistakes, I learned. There's really no other way to do it. All of the good advice in the world couldn't stop me from taking such a long and winding path. 


It's always cloudy except for when you look into the past. But that's how it has to be. It's part of being human. Wisdom comes from hard knocks. And it's been a hard knock life for me. Which is one of the reasons, I suppose, that I am finally able to enjoy and appreciate the way that we are living now. It's a life that is secure and comfortable... but not, by any means, boring. 



Now that I've laid the groundwork and you know where this INSANITY is coming from, without any further ado, I present: A crazy ass, random as all hell cat fight. May you laugh at my expense. 

I have a date! Labor Day, 2014.

• Sep. 7th, 2004 at 7:44 PM

I had such an amazing time with my family and a few friends this weekend. The best part about the whole thing is that we didn't force it. Of course, we knew all week that "the fam" was going camping (yet again) in Maryland. They pressured us into making it definite, but I would not relent. I didn't want to get their hopes up.

All week, customers were asking about my holiday agenda. I repeatedly told them, "I have no plans, I'm spontaneous. When I want to go, I just get up and go." And so I did. We rolled into their campsite without a call or a warning. As soon as they saw us, it was an instant party. We bring the fun, of that there is no doubt.

We rolled with the filthy minded teenagers, relishing in the fact that this may very well be our last chance to do so. This group of teens is the last we'll ever be able to truly relate to. (Phil's younger brother Jeremy, his cousin Josh & friend.) The next group of up and coming teenagers includes Merick 4, Hunter 3, Alex 8, & Kaitlyn 5. This is about ten years from now. My, how time has flown... It's hard to believe that soon we'll be the old heads in bed at 10 pm on future camping trips!

We went swimming, played whisper down the lane, the alphabet game, and truth or dare which lead to pole dancing, streaking through the site, humping soda machines, and foot licking. We went to a secluded little beach on the bay in the dead of night (without the youngsters) and reflected. We made a pact, the four of us (myself, hubby, sister-in-law Heather, and her boyfriend Aaron) to come back to that very spot ten years from Labor Day, no matter where we are or who we're with. Yeah, we were a little drunk and what not, but we meant it.

All in all, I'm glad that we went. I'm happy that I have become so close with these people who were mere strangers to me ten years ago. I love them all more than I love my own blood relations, and I am so glad that they accept me for the wild child that I am, without question.