Tuesday, April 8, 2008


I have to update my old people post with a new story. The other day E and I were sitting on the front "porch" of our apartment eating dinner with our dog. We live in what can loosely be termed a shithole. Thus, the people that live at our apartment complex that aren't students at IU are, for the most part, crazy people. This isn't me being mean, I'm just giving you all an honest assesment of the population of the complex.
Anyway, there we are enjoying the first warm day Bloomington has had in 162 days, when an older woman that lives across the way strolled past us with her tiny chiuaua. I don't want to ruin anyone's day/life, but, to get the story right, I must tell you that she was wearing some sort of incredibly high-waisted, incredibly tight spandex pants...I hope I don't need to go into further detail to get across the point that we could see things no human should ever be forced to see. If water-boarding gets old at Gitmo, they could send this lady over there in those pants and the terrorists would sing like canaries.
So, she walks her little dog right up in front of our porch. Neither E or I are particularly friendly people nor tolerant of old folks so we obviously avoided looking at her. Nevertheless, she just stood there, about 6 feet away, staring at us. Just. Staring. This went on for a good 45 seconds...I get a sick feeling in my stomach even thinking about it now.
Finally, she asked if our dog was the one making all that noise earlier in the day. Our dog has a love/hate relationship with his crate that occassionally causes him to wail like a toddler when we're gone. No one that lives in our building has EVER complained about it...mostly b/c they are all students who have lives and are, thus, not home during the day to hear him. This woman, however, has complained to the apartment management about him crying. Yes, this woman, who lives in a completely different building about 100 feet away from where we live. You know why? Because old people are MEDDLERS. Whatever, though, she can bitch all she wants because the management told us not to worry about it. So, this is all beside the point.
We barely answered her after she dissed our dog, but, NATURALLY, she didn't take the hint. More staring for about 30 more seconds. Then, a discussion about, I kid you not, the bowel movements of her dog. Ohhh yes, her dog had bad breath so, of course, she had to change his food! Well, he didn't like this food, isn't that interesting? But, don't worry, he finally ate it on Sunday. And, as if you weren't concerned enough, he FINALLY pooped later Sunday evening. PHEWWWW!
Eventually, either our disinterest made an impact or her craziness made her forget where she was and she walked home-only to emerge a few minutes later, at 7:30 in the evening, with the sun still at least 1 hour from setting, in her pajamas and bathrobe.
Sigh. I don't really have a concluding sentence. I just thought that maybe if I wrote about it, the memory would go away...

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