I'm So Sorry

…that I’ve been neglecting my blog for so long and not updating you with what’s going on, (as though you’ve been sitting in the same spot waiting for me to return like some weird crazy stalker). I’ve been so caught up with moving and adjusting my belongings to its new home and finally…just breathing.

I do have a list of things I’ve learned throughout this whole moving ordeal. It’s a new community with new people and well, new growing pains here…

My top ten list...

10. Recycling. Apparently, there’s a huge “save the earth” cult making its way to the area. Any can, bottle, or any metal or glass object in the wrong place will have you paying high fines or force you to give away your firstborn child. Cardboard has to be cut up and folded neatly. I’m sitting there stabbing the cardboard like a freaky homicidal lunatic screaming, “Bleed already! Bleed!!!”

9. My landlord. He’s a little funny gay Jewish man. He reminds me of an older Isaac Mizrahi. His voice is raspy and mannerisms are flamboyant rushed and sashays around the condo waving the lease in his hand as if it were the gay pride flag. That’s not the problem. The thing I found out is, he keeps the second bathroom’s tub leaking purposely, just in case the pipes freeze--as though I’m going to leave the house and make sure it’s below zero in there. (At least it’ll keep the vodka chilled.)

8. Mom calls more than ever. When I lived upstairs from her, she would call me everyday to remind me of my father’s perfect hygiene. “Deeeebbbbbbb? Don’t use the water. Daddy’s taking a shower.” Yes, she still calls him “daddy” to me. So, this morning as I’m elevating my feet from running up and down a million flights of stairs to get to my car to my apartment unloading the heaviest boxes, and she calls up and says, “Deeeeeeeebbbbbb? Don’t use the water.” In a punch-drunk delirium, I said, “Ok ma.” She laughed. Then I figured out, “I’m outa’ there!”

7. Smoking. I gave up secondhand smoke. Thanks… It’s been 2 whole days. I feel like a new person. I had to rewash all my clothes, because apparently smoke tends to travel and open up my closets to rub itself all over my best duds. I had some ex’s do that as well. (Whole other can of beans. Another day…another post.)

6. Nice people? There’s a weird corner of the world in New York where people are actually nice. In fact, if you don’t say hello back, they run after you, tackle you down to the floor and say, “I SAID HELLO!” It’s a very passive-aggressive neighborhood. I have to read that lease again.

5. Exhibitionists. I never thought. I never did. But, apparently, the complex across the way from me has a couple who don’t pull down their shades. I don’t have to buy pay per view anymore. Those good ol’ binoculars come in handy dad! Thanks!

4. The moving guys. I figured out why the moving guys gave me their number so that we can ‘hang out’ sometime. Apparently, from years ago, I had a provocative…ok, ok, ok, a dirty CD cover lying underneath one of my cushions of my love seat. The guy picked it up, raised one eyebrow and asked, “This yours?” Oh yeah, like I’m going to deny it or take the fifth. I’m a reformed dirty movie watcher. (I wonder where that damn CD is!)

3. Phone service. The telephone company gave me a phone number that some in debt chicky used to have. Now, believe me, I sympathize with everyone who’s in debt---I’m no stranger to it, however, when you get a phone call every 10 minutes from rude collection agencies asking for somebody else, that’s enough to drive you up a wall! In the past two days, I have had over 50 phone calls for a Barbara Rivera. (Sorry Barbara, but pay your damn bills!) The 50th call, I decided to tell them that poor Barbara had passed away. The response: well can you please tell us when and how she passed away ma’am? I called the phone company. They told me to file a police complaint. Oh yeah, this’ll be great. Debra Pasquella vs. Rude Collection Agency with an outdated phone number list. That’ll go over real well. Change my fricken number you nimrods! They did after I barked at them for 20 minutes.

2. Heavy footed. My mom said to me on many occasions that I have a very aggressive and heavy foot. When I walk, (usually with heels), I tend to make it known that I’m coming. No, I don’t gallop or trot like a horse, but it’s loud and obvious I’m in the same building as you. My two other sisters have this same problem. I’m on the top floor, so lately, I’ve been noticing that I’ve been galloping-----eh-hem-----walking a bit too loudly when I make my way for my midnight glass of water. Poor neighbors. They must hate me.

1. HD is fraudulent. Please. You really have to be kidding me if you notice the difference between HD and the regular picture if you have a plasma TV. The cable guy came over this afternoon and was flicking from HD to normal. He was like my eye doctor when he makes me wear that freakish looking alien mask full of lenses. “This better…orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr is this better?” I couldn’t make out the difference, other than HD cuts out half your picture on your TV. I said the non-HD was better. He laughed and asked if I had vision problems. No. 20/20 thank you. Now get out and stop ripping me off.

If you don’t see me popping around online lately, it’s just that I am so tired. I’m worn out. I need a week to sleep. I will be back soon blogging about my depressing suicidal dilemmas again.