Martha Stewart Digression Ten Thousand Booms

I've become unreasonably interested in the drama playing out up on the second floor and I worry that I'm becoming Gladys Kravitz.  But then again no, because this is being shoved in my face, rather than me skulking around eavesdropping and peeking.  There's no need for that!  Please, God help me, there's no need!

Here's the latest on the Upstairsies!

No more murder attempts have taken place, which is A Good Thing, as Martha Stewart would say.

 

This is also a surprisingly Good Thing, Sports Illustrated. I can't believe you actually did this, but it wasn't as scary as I'd thought it would be! (OK internationalistas, this is US homemaker-media star Martha Stewart, whose tagline is 'It's a good thing!' AKA The Whitest Woman In America.  She was a tastemaker in the 80's, 90's, and 00's; then she met Snoop Dog. 

and started mokin da doink.  Now look at her. 

81 years old. Tch. This is what drugs lead to. *takes a bong hit* )

Making 80 look surprisingly good:  Martha Stewart Photos in Sports Illustrated Swimsuit 2023 - Swimsuit | SI.com   

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Our upstairsie is actually a nice lady.  She's quiet, if prone to making bad life decisions, and so are her friends (quiet and prone to making bad life decisions.)  No, the worst offenders, and the primary reason behind this woman's problems, are her sisters:  

Bohernomun Givesnofucks and Berbassoonda von Bawling-Harridan (of Ulm.)

   

And their kids Thunderball, Cannonball, Bowling Ball and Wrecking Ball. They juggle transmissions.  

A cat, which I've named Chinese Water Torture Cat (esq.) It gets blocked in the kitchen and left alone all day long. Kitty has taken the creative route in letting it's displeasure with this arrangement be known by climbing into the dishwasher and pushing the racks out, flipping the cabinet doors over and over again,  and knocking shit off the counters. It is very good at what it does and I for one am clear on what this animal wants. It wants a bazooka. 

Bohernomun's large dog I've named Itchyzooma also practices the art of creative disruption.  And this one trick has stopped conversation down here several times already. The dog gets underneath the dining room chair rungs and begins thumping the floor as it kicks at an itchy spot - you know that sound, right?  But in doing so, it moves itself, the table and the other chairs all over the dining room. Eech eech eech eech eech eech eech crash eech crash eech eech eech eech scrape eech eech eech rattle rattle eech eech eech eech eech eech eech eech thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump crash thump thump thump.  I've had five people down here stop, sit back and stare at the ceiling in utter disbelief, listening to this performance.

Let's not forget the merry-go-round of boyfriends:  Sid from Ice Age, Charles Addams-Version Gomez,

Imagine looking back at that. 

 ...Wow I Can See White All Around Your Eyeballs, Shithouse Rhymes, Backup Alarm, and assorted others. 

And their belongings.  They're all made out of concrete. 

And Berbassoonda's new problem:  The imaginary woman across the lot.

Last week:

Every day for the past eight days I've had to listen to her ranting on the phone about this supposed woman across the lot who's out to get her.  She speaks in a braying honk, and the concept 'use your indoor voice' is not part of her social lexicon. Well, not in the social lexicon of the meth she's smoking.

The landlord came asking me about this situation, and we compared notes, and oddly enough! the stories she's hearing are not the stories I'm hearing.  First of all, there is no woman across the lot.  (The question 'why is a non-resident contacting our landlord who just threw her out again about an imaginary resident's harassment' did not come up.)  Yeah. The apartment where all this is supposed to be coming from is VACANT.   

Second of all, Berbassoonda is not supposed to be here.  Again. The landlord told her to leave. Again.

 And out she went.  

Two hours later she was back in a different car. Now she's up there with a ten pound hammer building a stone dildo.

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Currently:

Berbassoonda was kicked out again this last Saturday morning. Out she went.  Back she came  in a different car. After a few words with her sister upstairs, back out she went. The day goes on.  Literally ten minutes after Upstairsie leaves for work, here comes Berbassonda AND Bohernomun, and twenty people, plus kids,  blasting in off the street, up the parking lot, out of their cars and up the stairs, where they all proceeded to put on their Kiss boots, 

these ones right here   

crank up the house music,  and run up and down the parking lot shouting 'Motherfucker' and various racial epithets for no good reason I could make out. It was like a bad mondo movie!  Like the party montage in She Devils On Wheels!  They did this nonstop until well after noise curfew, which is 10 p.m. here.  

The Biker and I decided to call it at 10:30, and we had trouble getting through because of all the other calls the landlord was taking about the same issue. Result - Bohernomun and her Panzer Attack Morris Dancers pack up and leave. Berbassoonda gets kicked out again.  She leaves too.  

An hour later Berbassoonda comes walking back up the parking lot.  She has parked her highly identifiable car out on the street. CRAFTY.

Sunday morning she gets kicked out again.  

Sunday afternoon she comes back and drops off Chinese Water Torture Cat. And leaves. 

Today I can hear CWTC up there - right now, in fact! flipping the kitchen cabinet doors.  Over and over and 

over and over and over and over and over 

and over and over and over 

and over and over and 

and over 

and

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Any questions?  Ask 'em.  Let's see if I can squeeze another post out of this topic.