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The Honolulu Weekly, a local alternative publication, featured “Nightmare Neighbors” in their latest issue.

Here’s a sample:

Turns out his wife (who was nice and functional!) was doing her medical residency in Oregon and he was bipolar and not taking his meds. He had inherited his home from his mother, who had passed away from cancer. He did not work. He locked himself in the house and watched TV and masturbated all day. Finally, his wife convinced him to sell the house and move to Oregon. me to thinking about my past nightmare neighbors.

At my last apartment, we were surrounded by the neighbors from hell:

Monkey Boy – He was dubbed this endearing term by my boyfriend. And really, it fit. If you’ve ever been to the zoo and visited the monkey area, then you’ll be more than familiar with the sounds of my last neighborhood. We concluded that he must have Tourette syndrome, or something similar. The monkey calls would get worse in the evening, going from once every hour to once every five minutes. I would have felt bad for this kid, but he and his emo friends would skateboard at obscene hours of the night and early, early morning.Shuffle, Spit and Moon – At my old place, there was a Vietnamese lady (fob-ish) who used to go “running” every morning at about 5:30 or 6 a.m. She would usually be in a skimpy slip and slippers. So I’d wake up to hear the sound of her slippers dragging on the pavement. I have running in quotation marks, because really all she did was shuffle up and down the street. Then there was the spitting. I guess shuffling made her salivate more than usual (like my doggies, how interesting) so periodically she hock a loogie. Loudly. Now I wish the story ended right there. On top of her shuffle spit combo, she also had a tendency to moon people. I never figured out if she did this intentionally, or because she really was that clueless. On one occasion, she offered me some extra order of pho that she had ordered, but was not able to finish. I happily obliged and then she bent over and picked it up from inside her apartment. I wasn’t very hungry after seeing a full moon in the middle of the afternoon. Other than that, she was a nice lady.Dirt(y)-Flinging Old Man – When we went to the apartment showing, our Realtor warned us about one of our neighbors (though in retrospect, he should have warned against ALL our neighbors) The older woman living next to us was happy, always smiling and greeted us when passed by. Her husband, on the other hand was grumpy, never said hello and liked to complain. One morning, after having friends over for the night before, we found dirt all over our patio and stuck to our door. Someone had thrown dirt balls at our front door, and the ones that missed were all over the patio. Later that week, I happened to have a conversation with shuffle, spit, moon lady and she mentioned that old grumpy man throw mud and crap into her yard area and against the outside of her unit wall. Not crap as in “random bunch of stuff,” I’m talking the kind that comes out of your butt. Apparently, he also keyed her car when they started parking it closer to his fence. Needless to say, I wish we wore gloves to clean up the patio and door that weekend.

Luckily, my new place is much friendlier and happier. The only thing that comes close to a nightmare is….Leftover Lady – We have an old lady living next door who likes to give us food. At first it was innocent and a nice gesture. Her food wasn’t usually too appetizing, given half of it was swimming in grease or unrecognizable as something edible. Then she started leaving food for us, even if we weren’t in the apartment to give it to. Unfortunately, she resorted to throwing it over her balcony, onto ours. Or placing it at the edge of our balcony wall, in perfect position for it to be knocked over onto (or rather, all over) our balcony.

Interestingly enough, my parents’ neighbors in Wahiawa are much more normal than the ones I had. Go figure. Do you have a nightmare neighbor story? Let’s hear it.

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Working for a p.r. firm is not something I dreamed about doing since I was a kid. Hell, I didn’t even know what p.r. was until my sophomore year in college.

It’s funny how I ended up in this field. Well, it’s not funny, although some days I have to laugh to stay sane.

When I was a kid I had many aspirations…I was a dreamer, a thinker, a doer (a joker, a smoker, a midnight toker) and somehow I ended up sitting at a desk for most of the day. Go figure. Let’s explore some of my past career path ideas:

Archaeologist
My favorite movies growing up (and even now) are the Indiana Jones series. I loved him so much as a kid, I refused to think he was an actor (regardless of the countless times I saw Indie playing Han Solo in Star Wars). I thought that someday I would uncover cool biblical artifacts, get chased around by Germans and, if I’m lucky, save a few starving Indian kids. There was even a point where I was obsessed with Egypt and uncovering secrets of the pyramids. While other kids were happy with a new Nintendo game, I got an Ancient Egypt book and “exploratory kit.” It came with a paper pyramid, paper sarcophagus you could put together, “authentic” hieroglyphics with translations so you could write/draw your own…I was in nerd heaven.

Engineer
My dad is a chemist…I figured, I can do something science oriented too. Sure, why not be an engineer? Oh yeah, I don’t know much about physics (thanks high school!)….What do you mean I have to take three years of calculus? No.

Teacher

I haven’t actually given up on this career. It’s something I want to do in the future, after I’ve burnt myself out in public relations. No elementary – too young and irritating. No middle school – this is when kids realize they can be a–holes to….everyone. High school – ah, just my speed…still can be a–holes, but at least you can tell them that (well, you can’t really call then a–holes, although it does have a much better sound than the other a-word).

My first post. For the umpteenth time. I’ve tried blogging in the past but it has never worked quite as I would hope.

Mostly because I get lazy. Also because I run out of things to write about. Often because I forget about them.

So why is this one any different? Who knows. Maybe it’s not.