Welcome to TackyTown, U.S.A.
Population: 3? 4?
Apartment 3F. Oh yes, Apartment 3F. What can I say?
I can say it's nice. One bedroom, nicely appointed kitchen and bath. Dark hardwood floors, high ceilings, spacious (by Manhattan standards).
I can say it's expensive.
I can say the guy who used to live there seemed like a really decent sort. Quiet. Polite. Sociable enough to offer a smile and a greeting whenever we met in the hallway. The sort of neighbor anyone would be thrilled to have.
I can say that the few times I managed to peek inside his apartment during our brief chats in the hallway, I liked what I saw. He seemed to have decent taste.
I can say I wish he'd move back. Pronto.
You see ... the new neighbors ... Well, just look at what they're using for a welcome mat. Look. Yes, that's right. It's a carpet remnant. But not just any old carpet remnant. A poorly cut, filthy, hey-I-just-vomited-a-can-of-creamed-spinach green carpet remnant, left over from the garbage that they actually installed over the beautiful hardwood floors when they moved in this past May.
I knew something was wrong with these new tenants before I ever laid eyes on them or they ever laid down the carpet. I knew something was wrong as soon as I peeked in during their move (I'm such a yenta) and saw the ornate gold-gilt chairs with pea-green cushions. I knew something was wrong when every piece that was brought in was more hideous than the one before it.
I expressed my sense of foreboding to the DOG.
"I don't know," I said. "I'm scared. I just saw the new people's stuff. It's objectionable. Shit that even my grandparents would consider hideous. I'm worried. Why the hell did S have to move out?"
Well, as it turns out, I wasn't just paranoid. As it turns out, I had every right to be scared. You see, my new neighbors are not what they told the landlord they were. They are not an interior decorator and her one lovely child. They are a psychic and her two or three obnoxious children.
Yes, a psychic. A palm-reader. A palm-reader who advertises that her services are $5.00. And that "walk-ins are welcome". Yes, walk-ins are welcome into a five-story building that houses only six units. Walk-ins willing to part with the lofty sum of $5.00, walk-ins with the intelligence to believe in the advice of a palm-reader, walk-ins fresh off of Broadway are welcome to just roam around the halls of a doormanless, rather high-rent building.
And how do I know about her advertising? Well, I know because it was all laid out in blue and white on a large two-sided sandwich-board sign that she placed just outside the front of the building when she first moved in.
Yes, nothing says, "This is a really classy joint" than a cheesy sign advertising cheesy services for the price of a block of cheese.
Well, that just didn't sit well with me and the DOG. And apparently it didn't sit well with the other neighbors or the building manager/landlord (whatever he is), because the next morning the sign was gone. However, she and her two (three?) screaming brats are still in 3F, as is the hideous furniture, and the pervasive, invasive smell of boiled macaroni and particularly odoriferous onions.
But what's a girl of impeccable taste and steadfast impatience to do about the filthy, unsightly carpet remnant? Is it so wrong for me to seriously consider accidentally dropping an open ten-gallon drum of acid, motor oil, or spaghetti sauce onto it? Is it so wrong for me to actually consider creeping down 35 steps at 3:00 a.m. and sneaking the vile thing back up to my apartment, stuffing it into a big trashbag, and then disposing of it in a Dumpster about a block and a half away?
But ... then again ... what if Madame 3F really is a psychic? Then she knows I've been considering these alternatives ever since the carpet remnant first appeared about three weeks ago. She knows, so that means she'll be peering through her peephole at 3:00 a.m., waiting for me to make my move.
The real question, though, I suppose, is this: Is she really a psychic? Or am I just psycho? Further, do I even have a big enough trashbag?
fresh-baked at 04:22 PMBuy one you can live with, toss hers, and leave a note saying "somehow I just knew you'd like this."
Offered by: Chris on September 21, 2002 04:31 PMIt's been my experience that most of the psychics I've seen with signs usually say that an appointment is needed. Which makes me wonder just how psychic they are if they don't know that MONEY is about to knock on their door.
I have a neighbor who hung a rug over her back garden wall to dry a week ago, and she left it there for many many days. If I hadn't been sick, I would have slipped down there and pulled that sucker over the wall to the public area on the other side of the wall. I was sick of looking at it from my bedroom window, and I'm sure the people using the walking path were just as sick of it. But illness prevailed.
I just want you to know that I'm with ya in this, lady!
Offered by: Desert Mermaid on September 21, 2002 04:32 PM(15 years of property management experience comes in handy at times like these!) Go after her with the Fire Code. Many building fire codes prohibit the placement of any mats in hallways as they are a tripping hazard in the event of emergency evacuation. Check it out. If it so, insist that the landlord enfore the code "for your safety!" :)
Offered by: Jennifer on September 21, 2002 04:37 PMIf you're going to put out a rug remant, at least cut it straight! It looks like (at least on my side) that its cut all wierd.
Offered by: Anita on September 21, 2002 05:26 PMThis all begs the question, if it's a high-rent building, how the hell does she afford to live there, if she's only charging $5 a go for her lying... err... psychicness.
And you have to wonder, seriously, about the taste of anyone who covers over good wooden floors - at least in this day and age.
She might claim it's because she has kids, and doesn't want them to hurt their knees when they trip over. My view? To hell with the brats, it's like natural selection; they'll soon learn not be running about the apartment.
Offered by: Max on September 21, 2002 06:10 PMA $5 psychic? Dear, she's the psycho......not you.
Maybe on one of your morning excursions to the gym you can casually pick up the monstrosity in the hallway and cart it out of the building. Do NOT take it to your place. It will only breed bad things there. Put something NON-SKID down for everyone's benefit. She may not even notice.
I know! Strike up a casual conversation with her and tell her that it's a funny world....you too are a psychic (or piss-chick as the D calls them)...
Tell her that you've been sensing since she's moved in that people wish she'd shut her kids the hell up by jamming that horrendous rag of a carpet down their macaroni crusted pieholes.
!!!
Offered by: deliah on September 22, 2002 10:46 AMDear God! That welcome mat is an absolute abomination! The Refinement In Our Hallways Patrol must be contacted immediately. This is a flagrant violation of good taste. Your 69 step journey to the outside world must be utter anguish.
Incidentally, could Ms. 3F be her?
When Scott and I moved into our condo, we were overjoyed at the huge backyard that came with it: several trees, planted beds, roses, over 500 bulbs planted, and several odd and "woodish" stone ornaments including a stone birdbath, and 19yo lawn boys to match. The weekend we moved in, we noticed that the birdbath was gone. After a week, while putting the dog out for her morning beauty walk, we found the birdbath: it was on the deck of the troll who owned the condo above us. The birdbath that the previous owner had purchased to match the unique woodland setting was in the hands of a troll. Then we discoverd the troll had a dog. Did he walk the dog in the park that is attached to our complex? Nooooo. His bitch-dog went for her beauty walk on the deck above ours, as in POO over our heads! Tacky fucker troll.
If I were you? I'd burn the remnant and put a voodoo doll in its place. She's no psychic -- if she was she would have known they would make her take down her sign. Tacky fucker troll wife.
odoriferous , impressive word , but does it exist?
Offered by: Ritchie on September 22, 2002 12:46 PMLawn boys? Did somebody say "lawn boys"?
Offered by: Jodi on September 22, 2002 02:17 PM"Lawn boys" Yes, indeedy! One is 19, 5'10", NICE build, yummy to watch as he picks weeds. The other is this 21yo Hispanic boy that's all kinds of spicy. He likes the weed-whacker the best. Ask Scott for pics.
Offered by: Jay on September 22, 2002 05:20 PMJodi, you know what needs to be done. Taxi ... help her out, bud. That's right, a steaming heap of dog shit laid squarely on that hallway atrocity is just the ticket.
Psychic? Bahahahahaha! As IF! ;)
Offered by: Kelly on September 22, 2002 07:42 PMPut a windmill halfway up the stairs, and place a cup on her rug, effectively turning your stairway into a the world's first apartment building / miniature golf course. I'd pay five dollars for that.
Offered by: aaron on September 23, 2002 12:34 PM
