Crackwhore? One door over, thank you.
Jul. 29th, 2004 11:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grrgoylI hate my next door neighbor. She is such a crackwhore.
This isn't just an idle term of endearment. She is quite literally a crackwhore. I know because Tery one night found a teeny bag of what could only be crystal meth on her doorstep (which I brought to the police, and, well, the story of why she isn't cooling her heels in prison right now is kind of long and I don't want to get into it right now). Making her I suppose a crystal meth whore. But I think "crackwhore" rolls so much more smoothly off the tongue.
I have other reasons to hate her besides being a vile drug dealer/user. There's the fact that she and her boyfriend and their custo....I mean, guests slam the door so hard that OUR walls shake every. single. time they go in or out. Or the fact that on more than one occasion we've gotten a knock on our door from their buyers...I mean friends whose brains were too fried to get the address straight. Or their two (or three) vicious mongrel dogs that sound like the Horsemen of the Apocalypse coming up the stairs and bark at us on our way to our own front door all the time, like WE don't have a right to be there.
But lately I've had a whole new beef with Ms. Tracey Whitcomb (the names are not changed to protect the innocent, because she's not innocent. She's a skanky crackwhore, which I may have mentioned) in the form of mistakenly receiving her phone calls and even her mail simply because of our proximity to her. After relaying three phone messages to her via post-it notes, she left us a note apologizing and explaining that she only has a cellphone so people looking for a home number must just look up the address. Which makes no sense to me. Even if someone is looking for a phone number by address, what kind of logic brings them to ours instead, and is it the same logic that convinces them that "Adamcewicz" or "Dombrowski" is close enough to "Whitcomb" for their purposes??? At least one of these misplaced phonecalls was from a collection agency, information I am sure she doesn't mind complete strangers having. The mail I can kind of understand, her box is right below ours, but there is a good reason mail is kept semi-confidential as well.....we have received at least two letters from the local sheriff's department to Ms. Whitcomb, letters I gleefully left on top of the box with the big ole "Sheriff's Department" stamp for all to see until she found them herself.
The reason I am writing this is because today I received a fourth phone message intended for Tracey and guess what? I'M NOT DELIVERING IT. Why?
Because I'm eeeeeeeeeeeevil.
Well, that's not really why. The why is because I feel that acting as her personal message service three times is really stretching the limits of Good Samaritanship, and four times just snaps it. What makes me evil is the sincere hope deep down inside that this message is devastatingly important, that failure in returning it could spell financial ruin, fully-deserved arrest, or at least immense inconvenience in some aspect of her life. Because she is a filthy crackwhore and I don't want her living next to us. It's as simple as that.
♥ ♥ ♥
This isn't just an idle term of endearment. She is quite literally a crackwhore. I know because Tery one night found a teeny bag of what could only be crystal meth on her doorstep (which I brought to the police, and, well, the story of why she isn't cooling her heels in prison right now is kind of long and I don't want to get into it right now). Making her I suppose a crystal meth whore. But I think "crackwhore" rolls so much more smoothly off the tongue.
I have other reasons to hate her besides being a vile drug dealer/user. There's the fact that she and her boyfriend and their custo....I mean, guests slam the door so hard that OUR walls shake every. single. time they go in or out. Or the fact that on more than one occasion we've gotten a knock on our door from their buyers...I mean friends whose brains were too fried to get the address straight. Or their two (or three) vicious mongrel dogs that sound like the Horsemen of the Apocalypse coming up the stairs and bark at us on our way to our own front door all the time, like WE don't have a right to be there.
But lately I've had a whole new beef with Ms. Tracey Whitcomb (the names are not changed to protect the innocent, because she's not innocent. She's a skanky crackwhore, which I may have mentioned) in the form of mistakenly receiving her phone calls and even her mail simply because of our proximity to her. After relaying three phone messages to her via post-it notes, she left us a note apologizing and explaining that she only has a cellphone so people looking for a home number must just look up the address. Which makes no sense to me. Even if someone is looking for a phone number by address, what kind of logic brings them to ours instead, and is it the same logic that convinces them that "Adamcewicz" or "Dombrowski" is close enough to "Whitcomb" for their purposes??? At least one of these misplaced phonecalls was from a collection agency, information I am sure she doesn't mind complete strangers having. The mail I can kind of understand, her box is right below ours, but there is a good reason mail is kept semi-confidential as well.....we have received at least two letters from the local sheriff's department to Ms. Whitcomb, letters I gleefully left on top of the box with the big ole "Sheriff's Department" stamp for all to see until she found them herself.
The reason I am writing this is because today I received a fourth phone message intended for Tracey and guess what? I'M NOT DELIVERING IT. Why?
Because I'm eeeeeeeeeeeevil.
Well, that's not really why. The why is because I feel that acting as her personal message service three times is really stretching the limits of Good Samaritanship, and four times just snaps it. What makes me evil is the sincere hope deep down inside that this message is devastatingly important, that failure in returning it could spell financial ruin, fully-deserved arrest, or at least immense inconvenience in some aspect of her life. Because she is a filthy crackwhore and I don't want her living next to us. It's as simple as that.
♥ ♥ ♥
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-07-30 06:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-31 12:55 am (UTC)When I make a COMPLAINT of HARASSMENT!!!!!!!
TRACEY!!!!!!!!!!
no subject
Date: 2004-07-31 07:57 am (UTC)