Sasquatch is Humping My Ceiling Again

Well it's 2 a.m. and that means the bars in the neighborhood have just closed and the Sasquatch that lives above me is humpin sumpin new against my ceiling again.

I hope this is covered in my Allstate renter's insurance policy because my favorite light fixture is going to crash to the floor any second now.

Here is a transcript of tonight's episode of Humpfestapalooza 2006:

click clack click clack

"hee...hee...hee"

STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP

Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

WHOSH Squeak WHOSH Squeak WHOSH Squeak WHOSH Squeak

"eeeeeee!...eeeeeee!"

"UUUGH!...UUUGGH!"

"eeeeeee!...eeeeeee!"

"UUUGH!...UUUGGH!"

"eeeeeee!"

"UUUGGH!"

"eeeeeeee...Eeeeeee...EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

"UUUUUUGGGGH!!!"

Yes, apparently tonight Yeti is up in the bounce house with a damn Ewok.

Currently reading :
Field Guide to the Sasquatch (Sasquatch Field Guide Series)
By Society of Cryptozoology
Release date: By May, 1992

I'm Living Underneath Chickganistan

Dear Upstairs Neighbor Getting It On With Squeaky Chicks All Night:

Is that the sound of your air mattress squeaking against the hard wood floor above me again or is it another one of your squeaking chicks? It's starting to sound like I'm living underneath a damn bounce house inhabited by a frickin Sasquatch and assorted Keebler Elves who suck in a balloon full of helium before grooving on each other all night.

The other night I thought your mattress had sprung a leak. "Up jump the boogie!" I shouted, threw the covers off of me and proceeded to do a victory dance while lying in bed. Imagine my disappointment when I realized moments later that what had initially sounded like a slow leak from your air mattress turned out to be the growing high pitched squeak of your date going crunk.

At least have the decency to try and drown out your Humpfestapalozooa 2006 with some background noise like the neighbors across the hall do when they get down to the sound of the Simpsons each evening from 6 to 7 p.m. Pacific Standard Time. I end up having to do the work for you by iTunesing it all night.

How about upgrading to a nice futon so that I don't have to hear the click clacking of another wobbly girl's heels across the hardwood floor as she crosses the border into Chickganistan followed by the sound of your motorized air pump. By the way, congratulations on upgrading from that foot pump that I was previously having to listen to you stomp on for a good 20 minutes every evening after the bars closed.

You might consider flippin' your neighbors a low five like the guy who lives on the basement floor does. When the smell of patchouli and incense starts to waft through the hallways we all know that soon, love will fill the air.

You might even up your chicktionary entries with the purchase of a second-hand sleeper sofa or even a bed. Craigslist is filled with just such offers.

The college kid whose apartment butts up next to mine obviously has a bed because it sounds like he's seeing twice as much action as you and your studio bouncehouse. His headboard is banging away every night and most afternoons. He's chillin in a damn Chicktropolis over there. Banging, banging, banging against my wall all night long.

Is this an apartment building or a house of ill-repute?

All of you shut the hell up. You're disturbing my insomnia.

Best Regards,

- Jennie

Currently listening :
20th Century Masters - The Millennium Collection: The Best of Tom Jones
By Tom Jones
Release date: By 08 February, 2000

Diamond is a Girl's Best Friend

Yes, I admit that I'm enamoured with the man they call the Jewish Elvis. I'm even a self-professed Diamond Girl.

Whatever your mood, chances are the great Neil Diamond has already written a song to accompany it.



Been kicked to the curb: "Love on the Rocks"

Drunk on Pinot Noir: "Red, Red Wine"

Starting your menstrual cycle: "Girl, You'll be a Woman Soon"

Another damn bird just crapped on my car: "Jonathan Livingston Seagull"

Wonder what the kin folk are cooking tonight: "Porcupine Pie"

Just got done checking my account balance: "Forever in Blue Jeans"

Wondering why I have three college degrees and still can't find a decent job: "America"

In the mood to eat some sweet Ben and Jerry's Neapolitan Dynamite ice cream: "Cherry, Cherry"

Welcome to 8 Minute Speed Dating: "Lonely Lady Number 17"

Trust me, those aren't real: "Mountains of Love"

Chillin' with my brother and his girlfriend: "Brother Loves Traveling Salvation Show"

It's quittin' time: "Open Wide These Prison Doors"

I could really use a shot of bourbon: "Kentucky Woman"

Damn bill collectors houndin' me: "You Got to Me"

Shouldn't have eaten that second Philly cheese steak: "I Got the Feelin (Oh, No, No.)"

This cell phone keeps dropping my calls: "Hello Again"

Enjoying my morning bowl of cereal: "Crunchy Granola Suite" (I even saw that one performed on stage in Fosse!)

Just keeping on, keeping on: "Hell Yeah"

Dig, Neil.

Dig.

Currently listening :
Jonathan Livingston Seagull: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack
By Neil Diamond
Release date: By 25 October, 1990

A Barely Legal Preacher's Daughter

Well, my plan to date my brother, or at least take dance lessons with him, totally backfired this week when he told me that he is now dating a barely legal preacher's daughter.

So begins another tale originating in rural Oregon Country, from whence I ran and no one else seems to have the slightest interest in leaving, mentally or otherwise.

He's been calling around asking everyone where he should take the girl, who won't be able to drink for another 2 years, 11 months and 3 1/2 weeks. My mom's response when she heard the news: "I don't know Brian, why don't you take her home to her parents."

This whole fiasco began when the preacher's daughter called him up last Wednesday saying, "I've had a crush on you for the past two years but you said you wouldn't take me out before because I wasn't legal. Well, today's my 18th birthday - I'm legal!"

They've been celebrating ever since.

This couldn't have come at a worse time. I was counting on being able to distract my family from my single status by tutoring my brother in the finer art of dating women. Okay, so I'll admit that our attendance at 8 Minute Speed Dating was a huge fiasco (see the "Why I Have Decided to Date My Brother" blog entry below), but he had just gotten over that event and had agreed to take dance lessons with me. The line, "Just think, you'll have more dance partners in one night than you've had in your entire life!" really reeled the sucker in.

All I can say now is that someone better have another baby by the next family function because I don't want to hear the theories about my singledome that will come otherwise.

During the last family function my grandfather nudged my stepdad and then shook his head at me and said a little too loudly, "32-years-old, 32-years-old, looks like we missed the boat on that one!"

My stepfather tried to intervene with a heart-to-heart talk informing me that, "Jennie, I don't know how to put this, but every man you ever dated stole your time. You're 32-years-old now and you need to think on that. If you like, your mom and I can drive you out to the Grange Hall. They have dances there most every weekend."

I told him I appreciated the concern, but that I had things covered.

That came on the back of a Saturday night spent watching the Lawrence Welk Show with my grandparents, during which time my grandfather stopped mid-meatloaf, raised his fork and asked, "So, are you going to be like your aunt? Because it's okay if you are. Just let us know if that's why you're single."

My aunt is a 56-year-old vegan lesbian.

That one came about four months after yet another attempt by my mother to have me "bring a glass of lemonade" to a fellow farmer helping my stepdad work the field while I was out there visiting.

"He lives in a trailer on his father's property," my mother began,"But his family is one of the richest landowners in all of North Plains and someday all of that land will be his! You could end up one of the richest landowners in all of North Plains!"

I told her, "Yeah, mom, well North Plains has a population of about 15 people so somehow being "one of the richest landowners" just doesn't doesn't sound all that impressive."

"But he went to college, so you'd at least have that in common," she pleaded. "And one day you could move from his trailer into the big house, after his parents pass on," she paused to open the kitchen tool drawer and pulled out a pair of binoculars. "Here, just take a look at him out in the field and see what you think of his looks. I was looking at him out there earlier. I couldn't see a pot belly or anything."

"You mean you haven't even seen him up close!" I cried.

"Well, no, of course not, he's out working in the field. I have met his father though and his father is a really good hunter."

"What does that even mean?" I cried. "I don't hunt! What do you think I want to marry the son of some hunter who's going to have a bunch of carcasses hanging all over our doublewide trailer, waiting for his kin folk to kick the bucket so that we can move into a real house!"

"But, honey," my mother smiled, "It's not a doublewide, it's just a single trailer. So you'd be able to hitch it up and go places. You know how you love to travel."

For once, I was speechless.

Currently listening :
Original Delta Blues
By Son House
Release date: By 30 June, 1998