neighbors https://godammit.com And I'm getting madder. Sat, 03 Dec 2016 04:32:26 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.5.2 https://i0.wp.com/godammit.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/Screen-Shot-2016-05-13-at-7.18.14-AM-1.png?fit=32%2C32&ssl=1 neighbors https://godammit.com 32 32 110361536 And The Winner Is… https://godammit.com/and-the-winner-is/ https://godammit.com/and-the-winner-is/#comments Sat, 03 Dec 2016 04:32:26 +0000 http://www.godammit.com/?p=11753 Continue reading ]]> winning wign

It’s childish looking because I was pretty stoned and I decided to use what I had at hand: sharpies, nail polish, and some little holiday stickers that came with some junk mail.

I think it’s pretty good! Here’s a close up:

close up

I went with Amanda’s suggestion, but all of them were great. If things escalate, I’ll choose another one your entries (unless I’m in an internment camp somewhere.)

Thanks!  XOXO

 

 

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Exciting New Contest! https://godammit.com/exciting-new-contest/ https://godammit.com/exciting-new-contest/#comments Mon, 28 Nov 2016 04:49:14 +0000 http://www.godammit.com/?p=11725 Continue reading ]]> exciting contestA neighbor just two houses away from us has put up this handmade sign, and in my opinion, she is asking for trouble.  Make that begging for trouble.

I feel duty-bound to oblige.

Keep in mind there are no other political signs in our neighborhood.

Naturally I’ve been thinking of ways to deface or alter her sign, but she probably has cameras and I don’t feel like being fined or going to court. I guess I could please insanity but I’d like to save that for a capital offense.

So, I need to put up my own sign, right???

I could make a NO TRUMP sign, or a sign that says PLEASE IGNORE TRUMP SIGN with an arrow pointing to her house.

I need your ideas, asap!

*Winner gets all credit for their idea or whatever he/she wants, within reason.

Save

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I Am Risen https://godammit.com/i-am-risen/ https://godammit.com/i-am-risen/#comments Mon, 28 Mar 2016 04:16:56 +0000 http://www.godammit.com/?p=11046 Continue reading ]]> iamrisen

A few days ago, I got up from the deathbed of my flu to see about the sawing noise from my backyard.

A guy was building something right next to my fence, a wooden thing that towered around three or four feet above the six-foot fence.

As someone who has had enough of neighbors and their fucking fences or add-ons that block the sun like a nuclear winter, I was immediately incensed.

I demanded, “What are you doing?” in a hostile tone and the guy pretended not to speak English. Another guy who I couldn’t see also pretended to not speak English until I yelled, “I’ll bet this isn’t legal!”

The invisible guy asked me what my problem was, and the fact that he spoke English made me furious. He said something like, “What’s it to you?” My feeling was, I don’t want to see a thing towering over my fence because I just don’t, motherfucker! How dare you!

I issued some nebulous threats and stomped back inside. I was ready to kill. I nearly peed. I looked up the local building codes and found a complaint form and some phone numbers.

A couple of days later, still wearing the same smelly pajamas, I decided to go over there to get the address. A couple of people milling around refused to speak to me.

Then an old guy appeared and said, I’m the owner of this building, what’s the problem?

I told him that I was concerned about the huge shed he was building and he insisted it was nothing for me to worry about. He asked me if I wanted to go back and look at it.

We went back and I could see that he was adding on to a storage shed for one of his tenants, and we discussed the property line. He said he’d been there for 35 years, as if to say, Back off, newcomer. I retorted, “Well, my husband was born in this neighborhood, and he’s 65!” I felt an atavistic aggression coursing through my veins and I also felt like a big angry baby.

I said, “What are those nails sticking out for?” in an accusatory tone, and he explained that he was hoping to grow some beans but it didn’t work out.

Maybe it was the failed beans.

Something shifted in my deranged territorial psyche and I realized that he was just a human being living his life.

He assured me that he planned to paint the shed to make it look nicer. He told me that he came here from Cuba, where he was an accountant. He told me that he likes to build things. He revealed that he had gone to school with Fidel Castro and had fought along side him in the revolution. But of course the revolution tuned bad, so he had sent his wife and kids to Miami before fleeing for his life.

I asked him what he thought of Ted Cruz (hated him but likes Rubio) and we talked about our mutual contempt for Donald Trump. He’s a Republican like many exiles but it was all good. He showed me his mango trees and we shared our disappointment in our attempts to grow lemons.

His name is Felix and he’s 87 or 89, I forgot which. I apologized for getting off to a bad start with him. I said I’d enjoyed talking to him. He said something like, “Yes. I like to talk, sometimes too much!”

I turned around to look up at him and said, “Me too! But that makes the world go around. We need to communicate and connect!”

His smile was so unexpected, his first smile, and lit up his face like a happy child’s.

I went home and announced, “Well, I have a new best friend.”

I don’t want to lose my edge, okay? I still want to start fights and hold grudges. But people are starting to worry about me. This is the third time in the last year that I’ve laid down my arms, so to speak, and found something better.

It’s still Easter Sunday here in California. Maybe I’m Jesus!

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The Story of the Salt and Pepper Shakers https://godammit.com/the-story-of-the-salt-and-pepper-shakers/ https://godammit.com/the-story-of-the-salt-and-pepper-shakers/#comments Mon, 30 Dec 2013 10:05:11 +0000 http://www.godammit.com/?p=10075 Continue reading ]]> oandm stove

Once, in another lifetime, we noticed a change in our neighborhood. Elderly, blue-collar residents were dying, and houses went on the market at absurdly inflated prices.

I heard that a yuppie couple had bought a house down the street and that something was wrong with her baby. One day, I saw the blonde yuppie mom passing by with her stroller. I welcomed her to the neighborhood and she seemed very nice. Her baby had a misshapen head and had to wear a special helmet. I pretended not to feel sorry for her, and after all, I had my own troubles.

She told me about her house and about her vintage O’Keefe and Merritt stove, which she was very excited about. She lamented that it was perfectly refurbished but was missing the porcelain salt and pepper shakers that belonged above the hood in their own recessed compartments.

I have an old O’Keefe and Merritt stove and I’ve never cared about the salt and pepper shakers. I never used them, and I only clean the stove maybe once every hundred years. Since the nice yuppie cared so much about the salt and pepper shakers, I impulsively offered her mine.

She was thrilled. She couldn’t get over how great this was. I basked in her happiness and my own niceness.

That was my only encounter with the nice yuppie. I think she moved away before too long. Many months later, I met another neighbor who had befriended the yuppies. She told me that she’d heard about my nice gesture, and commended me for my generosity.

As the years go by, I realize how valuable those fucking salt and pepper shakers are. I look at the empty compartments and think what an idiot I was. I probably just wanted the yuppie mom to like me.

When I review this story, I only feel my stupidity, and this in turn causes a vague sense of shame. My husband thinks it’s a story about doing something nice, but it isn’t. It’s a story about regret and resentment.

However, If I could go back in time, I’d do the same thing, because it feels good to be nice, even if you aren’t.

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