This blog is truely theraputic for me. The more I write, the less angry I feel, and the more comical all of Slum's behavior becomes. Last night I got home around 7 in the evening. The house was all dark. Mariana's bike was by the back door, but by all accounts it seemed like the house was empty. But just incase one of them was tucked away in their quiet space, I began to talk to my cat in the most annoying, babish way.
"Hey mamacita!! My hungry kitty!! MY NIÑA NIÑA!!..." This went on for sometime in a very loud, high pitched voice.
Then I went down to the kitchen and fixed myself a nice green salad wiht homemade lemony greek dressing, topped with a peice of salmon I'd grilled the night before. I felt so happy and unaffected by the household politics that I sat down at the ktichen table, in Slum's spot, and began to read the travel literature I'd just recieved from Amazon.
That's when I heard the unmistakable clump clump clump of Slum's heavy feet coming down the stairs. I only looked at her briefly when she entered the kitchen, her snarly mug looking all smushed as if she'd just woken from a heavy slumber. I can only imagine that she must have been nine kinds of miffed that I was sitting in "her spot." Beasts tend to be very territorial.
In an event, I kept munching on my salad and reading my book. She banged around in the kithcen for a while, put something to boil on the stove, and rather than sit in the same room with me, she went to the adjoining dining room, a room none of us ever use. From there I could hear her banging her spoon into a plastic bowl for 10 minutes or so. I was just grateful that it was plastic. When she starts feeding out of a cerramic bowl the banging of the spoon can be heard for miles.
Later in the eveing she got dressed, clomped down the stairs, and left the house. Read: SHE LEFT THE HOUSE! Perhaps she was meeting up with the Parisian guy that stopped by for a house tour a few days ago. Watching the dynamics between them I surmised that they'd met on Craigslist personals. It appeared that frenchie had not bathed or combed his hair in about 2 weeks. Who am I to judge if she's into dirty frogs...
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
HALLELUJAH!
HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! Hallelujah Hallelujah! HalleeeeeeeeeluJAH!
I have reason to rejoice today because Tyler has become the voice of reason in this house. Just when I was starting to doubt myself, considering that maybe, just maybe, I’m difficult to get along with and that I ask too much of my fellow humans, Tyler came along and set me straight.
As I was chopping up veggies for stir fry and chatting with Tyler I couldn’t help but ask about the disturbing images from earlier in the day. When I left the house in the morning, Tyler and Slumdog were sitting at the kitchen table having a civilizied chat about The Artist’s Way. I thought, oh no, I’m losing her…
Try as I might, I couldn’t help myself as I continued to slice up carrots… “So, you and Rubi had a nice chat abut the Artist’s Way this morning…?”
“Well, yea, sort of. For a little while,” she said, making it sound much less serious than it had seemed.
We continued to chat and I said more than I intended. I didn’t want her to feel dumped on, or in the middle of a big mess, but it seems that Slum has already put her in that position.
“She [Slum] is definitely very opinionated,” she said.
Yes, go on…
“And I feel like she is trying to get me on ‘her side.’ Do you know what I mean?”
“Oh, well yes, it was predicted that she would go out of her way make a friend out of you,” I said.
She continued saying that she “gets it” and that it’s clear that Slum is very immature, hence her tight relationship with Mariana, who, let’s face it, she could have given birth to.
We sat down, ate stir fry together, and continued chatting about other things. I really enjoy her company. She’s funny and she thinks I’m funny, and we can make reference to t.v. show’s from the 70’s… She’s great.
After our meal we were standing near the sink when she pointed at the dishes stacked beside the dish drain, “What’s this all about?”
“Oh,” I said, “that’s Rubi. She can’t stand to have dishes in the drain for very long.”
“I’d really prefer it if she didn’t move my things,” she said.
My heart leapt with joy!
“Yea, me too. I’ve asked her several times but she keeps doing it.” Flashes of ‘Keep your filthy paws off my things! came to mind.
“She is just intolerant and immature,” she said.
Finally! Someone who can see things for what they are!
HALLELUJAH!
I have reason to rejoice today because Tyler has become the voice of reason in this house. Just when I was starting to doubt myself, considering that maybe, just maybe, I’m difficult to get along with and that I ask too much of my fellow humans, Tyler came along and set me straight.
As I was chopping up veggies for stir fry and chatting with Tyler I couldn’t help but ask about the disturbing images from earlier in the day. When I left the house in the morning, Tyler and Slumdog were sitting at the kitchen table having a civilizied chat about The Artist’s Way. I thought, oh no, I’m losing her…
Try as I might, I couldn’t help myself as I continued to slice up carrots… “So, you and Rubi had a nice chat abut the Artist’s Way this morning…?”
“Well, yea, sort of. For a little while,” she said, making it sound much less serious than it had seemed.
We continued to chat and I said more than I intended. I didn’t want her to feel dumped on, or in the middle of a big mess, but it seems that Slum has already put her in that position.
“She [Slum] is definitely very opinionated,” she said.
Yes, go on…
“And I feel like she is trying to get me on ‘her side.’ Do you know what I mean?”
“Oh, well yes, it was predicted that she would go out of her way make a friend out of you,” I said.
She continued saying that she “gets it” and that it’s clear that Slum is very immature, hence her tight relationship with Mariana, who, let’s face it, she could have given birth to.
We sat down, ate stir fry together, and continued chatting about other things. I really enjoy her company. She’s funny and she thinks I’m funny, and we can make reference to t.v. show’s from the 70’s… She’s great.
After our meal we were standing near the sink when she pointed at the dishes stacked beside the dish drain, “What’s this all about?”
“Oh,” I said, “that’s Rubi. She can’t stand to have dishes in the drain for very long.”
“I’d really prefer it if she didn’t move my things,” she said.
My heart leapt with joy!
“Yea, me too. I’ve asked her several times but she keeps doing it.” Flashes of ‘Keep your filthy paws off my things! came to mind.
“She is just intolerant and immature,” she said.
Finally! Someone who can see things for what they are!
HALLELUJAH!
Friday, April 3, 2009
Reflections of Slum
Free from the spell of PMS, I find myself asking the question – why do I love to hate Slumdog? It is not, as one person speculated, that I have an issue with her based on her race or nationality. That was actually the one thing that sold her to me. I was excited to have someone that grew up in India around to learn about the culture. To my dismay, however, what she delivered was not the package I’d hoped for.
Instead of spiritual enlightenment and insight, I got the same repetitive claim that “it’s all an illusion…blah blah blah.” Yea. Got it. I wish she was an illusion.
Instead of lovely home cooked Indian food I got some processed rice dish with soy balls. That was a tough one to choke down. She lives off of take out from India Sweets and Spices in Atwater. She literally eats the stuff 3 or more times a day.
“Don’t you ever tire of Indian food?” I inquired one day.
“No,” she said indignantly, “I’m Indian!”
That’s about the dumbest logic I’ve ever heard, but whatever. It would be nice if she would chill out with the patchouli incense. When I walk past her room the smell nearly knocks me down, and last night it was wafting into my room. Gag!
She lied about so many things when she interviewed for the room, like the promise to cook authentic Indian food, but also that she would have B List actors around “rehearsing.” Rehearsing for what is my question. The illusion of her life as a director?
I’m beginning to suspect that she is mentally ill. That would mean that I’m picking on a disabled person, but then maybe I’m a little mentally ill 2 weeks out of the month, so it’s okay. In any event, I’m feeling completely unaffected by her presence today. This is reason to rejoice, indeed.
Instead of spiritual enlightenment and insight, I got the same repetitive claim that “it’s all an illusion…blah blah blah.” Yea. Got it. I wish she was an illusion.
Instead of lovely home cooked Indian food I got some processed rice dish with soy balls. That was a tough one to choke down. She lives off of take out from India Sweets and Spices in Atwater. She literally eats the stuff 3 or more times a day.
“Don’t you ever tire of Indian food?” I inquired one day.
“No,” she said indignantly, “I’m Indian!”
That’s about the dumbest logic I’ve ever heard, but whatever. It would be nice if she would chill out with the patchouli incense. When I walk past her room the smell nearly knocks me down, and last night it was wafting into my room. Gag!
She lied about so many things when she interviewed for the room, like the promise to cook authentic Indian food, but also that she would have B List actors around “rehearsing.” Rehearsing for what is my question. The illusion of her life as a director?
I’m beginning to suspect that she is mentally ill. That would mean that I’m picking on a disabled person, but then maybe I’m a little mentally ill 2 weeks out of the month, so it’s okay. In any event, I’m feeling completely unaffected by her presence today. This is reason to rejoice, indeed.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
He's Baaaaack...
I knew cops would end up at our door before it was all over. But alas, they were not here to take Slumdog (or me) away. When the bell rang at 1 a.m. I was in a place I like to call sleep, which all too often gets interrupted around here.
Apparently Jamie, Tamiko’s cute boyfriend had been hanging out in front of our house for quite some time. Mariana and Tyler answered the door in their pajamas. I guess the police wanted to make sure it wasn’t a “creepy” situation, but let’s face it – what else could it be? Only Tyler’s second night in the house and already stalker boyfriends are hanging around. I guess he told the police he was missing his girlfriend who had gone back to Japan. I stayed at the top of the stairs peering over the wrought iron banister.
“Aw, that’s such a sweet story,” I heard Tyler say. “Sweet and… creepy,” she laughed.
I went back to bed but heard Slumdog invite him in for tea. She is such a loser. He stayed for about half and hour. I heard the two of them and Mariana laughing and talking, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I’m dying to get the whole scoop. Maybe Tyler can fill me in since they were having their tea party right outside her room.
What kind of idiot invites a deranged guy into their home in the middle of the night? A lonely loser of an idiot with a ravenous appetite for attention and friends… Maybe I’m being too harsh.
Apparently Jamie, Tamiko’s cute boyfriend had been hanging out in front of our house for quite some time. Mariana and Tyler answered the door in their pajamas. I guess the police wanted to make sure it wasn’t a “creepy” situation, but let’s face it – what else could it be? Only Tyler’s second night in the house and already stalker boyfriends are hanging around. I guess he told the police he was missing his girlfriend who had gone back to Japan. I stayed at the top of the stairs peering over the wrought iron banister.
“Aw, that’s such a sweet story,” I heard Tyler say. “Sweet and… creepy,” she laughed.
I went back to bed but heard Slumdog invite him in for tea. She is such a loser. He stayed for about half and hour. I heard the two of them and Mariana laughing and talking, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I’m dying to get the whole scoop. Maybe Tyler can fill me in since they were having their tea party right outside her room.
What kind of idiot invites a deranged guy into their home in the middle of the night? A lonely loser of an idiot with a ravenous appetite for attention and friends… Maybe I’m being too harsh.
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