Katie Schwartz

every time I park across the street from my buildink under the street lamp, my yachna neighbor screams ( sight unseen) BACK UP THREE FEET. THRRREEEEE FEET. THREE FEET! BACK. BACK. BAAAACK! GAAAAAAAAAHD. it would be a nice gesture if he said, you might want to back up a little. but, this is a demand, bordering harassment. I could be on the phone or in the middle of a conversation with a passenger. fuck. juice and I could be exiting the car and he's hockin. thanks for your concern, but what if I like bird shit? what if I'm too cheap to spring for a paint job or I'm going for an organic white with a green hue?! back-the-fuck-off, bitch. today, after berating my ignorant parking job, he wailed, when are you going to get that damn sunroof fixed?! I wanted to scream, suck my ovaries, pig fuck. why is my sunroof his business? it's my car and my choice. I happen to like the slide factor. so it doesn't close all the way. if I have a problem with it, don't I have the

my creepy neighbor is just flaunting his creepiness now. he's escalated from a fat chick pantie sniffing nut bag to a full on meat fetishist. I feel like he preys on fat women with no self-esteem so he can convince them to eat beef jerky while riding his flesh bat. lemme tell ya something, these ain't overly dramatic, inaccurate assessments. here's the scoop: juice and I were schlepping down the stairs and out pops creepy from his nest, toting a garbage bag. expressing far too much enthusiasm he says , so, you ready for the big move ? yeah . he glances at louie and says , he can finally go into retirement . how offensive. I'm not one of those, confront death head on, broads. retirement = death in my twisted irrational mind. my parents are not allowed to retire or age. whatever. don't judge. so, I said, he's hardly retiring. he runs. he plays. he swims. he has a full life, he just can't go up the stairs . myob, dumb ass . he throws out his trash. I throw lo

as far as neighbor tales go, let's face it, I'm riddled with em'. today, I got a note on my door from my neighbor that said, if you and louie need help moving some stuff downstairs, feel free to knock. menschy, right? really nice, thoughtful and kind. so, why did I get the creeps? how snatchy of me. here is a human being expressing kindness and goodwill towards womankind. what the fuck is wrong with me that I could even think for a second, ok, creepy, thanks, but no thanks. then I realized why I thought that. yes. he's very nice to my dog whenever we run into him in the hallway. yes, we've exchanged pleasantries. you know how you do. no, we've never had a discussion. how did he know I was moving? is he a tenant tracker? a chubby chaser? does he sniff fat chick panties? is he trying to fuck my dog? steal my dog? is he paying a fat girl karmic debt? is he trying to boost my credit card for itunes? what is the deal? why the sudden interest in helping sowlicious mov