Saturday, March 31, 2007

Wedge Clipper

(I can't believe how many posts I've wasted on this subject, but it's cheaper than therapy)

Today I could have committed multiple murders and then went to Starbucks without giving it a second thought. Why do our mothers become so chit chatty when they get old? And why the fuck does my father still drive that 79 Cadillac?

I have so many questions, but no answers.

However, my anger helped me solve a local mystery tonight. I was home alone. Cranky from lack of sleep the night before, I snapped when I heard loud footsteps from the jackass on four. I took a stick and banged on the ceiling. I also yelled out loud. FUCK YOOOOOOUUUU! Could you imagine the kind of cop I would have made?

After noticing that my friendly warning did nothing, I grabbed my keys and ran out the door, furiously racing down the hall, passing Stupid Stepford Wife along the way. I charged up the stairs and opened the door to find a woman, probably in her 20s, crouched on the floor fixing the lace on her shoe while waiting for the elevator.

"Hello." she said, lacking any personality whatsoever. My first thought was, What a dog! She reminded me of (premakeover) Toula, from My Big Fat Greek Wedding with long black shapeless hair, itching for some style--or a match. Instantly, I knew this was the mystery girlfriend who's been stomping around oblivous. But should I say something? I decided that I couldn't. I knew that I would not be able to pull off that delicate mix of firm, yet slightly condescending tonight. I might have ended up shoving her head through the sheetrock wall in the hallway.

As I tried to fake (unconvincingly) that I had the wrong floor, I walked back, stopping to look at her shoes. I had to get a good look. They were horrible strappy wedges, the kind that little old Greek and Italian women wear. (I can say that because I am Greek and have seen them firsthand) Ugly, dated, and dirty looking. It all clicked into place. This was her. Part of me wanted to kick her while she was down there, but I had run up without shoes. I should have knocked her over, taken her shoes off, and thrown them down the nearby compactor chute.

I rushed back to the apartment and opened the door to total silence, my final proof that this Fucking Ugly Stupid SheBeast is the one who makes all the noise, not him.

But at least it's quiet now. And I can work on my book. But first, I'm going downstairs to the diner to get a cheeseburger. Fuck the diet tonight.

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