-image-The DB Files: Don’t Come and Knock on My Door (Case 102)

February 26, 2009 | Ask the Douchebag Detective!

Check out this nasty bit of neighborly misbehavior:

I live in a condo. Our building is what I believe they call “California Style,” with exposed balconies that run the length of the building, front and back, and exterior stairwells. Everyone’s front and rear doors open onto these common balconies. We (husband and I) affectionately refer to it as the Motel 6. If you were to cut our building into thirds, the stairwells would be at the 1/3 and 2/3 marks. We live on the second floor, and our unit buts up to the stairwell. Each unit gets one parking space, that is ASSIGNED. Our parking spaces are in the alley, and are directly behind the building. We also have two dogs. Two smelly, droopy, lovable, scent obsessed, small animal tracking basset hounds.

The unit below us has been vacant for quite some time, as the elderly lady that lived there passed away. It was for sale, they had open houses, blah blah blah. It never sold. About a month ago, we saw activity, and lo and behold! Renters! Now, these people moved every posession they own in a beat up Dodge Stratus. I’m talking everything. A DRESSER STRAPPED TO THE ROOF, and then a few days later A RECLINER STRAPPED TO THE ROOF. Incredible. They park crooked and take up part of my parking space and unloaded all of their crap in close proximity to my car, and believe it or not, this is not my problem with them.

Turns out, this is a very friendly mother and daughter (who appears to be early 20s). Well, they got themselves a puppy, which is quite nice. I like dogs, I have 130lbs of dog living in my house and drooling on my furniture, I REALLY like dogs. This puppy is a cute little terrier mix kind of guy, and I think he’s only 12 or 13 weeks old.

I guessed that the puppy was there before I ever saw him. My two dogs started to go nuts at the bottom of the stairs, both front and back. They’d press their noses right to the frozen concrete and refuse to move until they’d inhaled all the sent possible. I have since met the puppy and he’s very cute. The problem is that I have also seen them letting him out…

Let me back up and say that though the back of the units lead to the alley, which is obviously paved, the front doors are about, oh, 10ft from the grass/landscaping. They are putting this dog on his leash and opening the back/front door. They stand inside the warm unit and LET THE DOG DO HIS BUSINESS ON THE SIDEWALK. If he poops, they pick it up, if he just pees, they let him right back in. Um, HELLO?!?! I know its cold here- I walk my dogs in it several times a day. I know we’ve had snow on the ground since, like, forever, but really? What happens when its 95 degrees in the middle of July and there’s puddles of dog piss all over the sidewalk? Gross! Not to mention that I can’t hardly drag my two beasts up or down the stairs now.

WALK YOUR DAMN DOG TO THE GRASS.

Ooooh I second that emotion. That, my dear, is inconsiderate nastiness of the urine variety! Ack! Does the urine puddle freeze into a piss pond? Do you have some sort of condo association board you can talk to about greeting the renters and advising them on the pet-peeing policies?!

That lazy and inconsiderate behavior, in my book, definitely qualifies as douchebaggery.

Would it be db if you peed into a frisbee, froze it, popped the frozen piss puck out of the frisbee and slid it under there door late at night for it to melt onto their carpet? Just a thought.

-image-Always and Always

February 24, 2009 | Jojo

When I went upstairs to check on Jojo, he hugged my head and said “mommy, I’ll love you for always and always.” UGH.

The kid. He melts me.

Of course, earlier in the day, he clogged the toilet and poopified water gushed allll over his feet and my feet and the floor and well, everything.

He burst out crying when I ran into the bathroom and found him standing next to the swirling nastiness, and I can say without a doubt, I’d stand in poopy water and dry your tears any time, any day forever and always, Jojo.

But let’s not try that out…just trust me on that.

-image-Can I Not Get a Hallelujah?

February 22, 2009 | bitterness

People.

I had one of the most bizarro hotel experiences this weekend. Oh yes. More bizarro than the time we stayed at this whackadoodle hotel on the North Sea that didn’t think it was necessary to put door numbers on some doors so when we tried to find our room very late at night, my mom walked into someone’s room…who had a very yippie dog. Hilarity? That’s not what ensued.

Oh no. This time? We reserved ourselves a suite at a large chain hotel so that we could put the boys in the living area and have a door separating us (quiet) from them (loud). It’s what we do. We do this. Judge if you will. The door was see-through and the cost? Not at all prohibitive. You should look into the suite. It’s usually quite reasonable.

I digress.

So. Everything seems fiiiine at check-in. I get a complimentary bag of Cheetos and water (I don’t ask questions. I just take.), and Jojo loves the playground (which, I’ll admit, even I liked, but then who wouldn’t like a giant wooden pirate ship?). The room appears clean and spacious and the in-room jacuzzi and wall o’ mirrors very porn-like. Or so I’ve heard.

We go out. We do our thing. We return sans Jojo — he decides he wants to sleep at his aunt’s house (without his binky even) — and it’s a good thing, because the hotel staff never delivered the sheets and blankets for the hide-a-bed he would have slept on. So it’s just the Nugget, my husband and me.

This should be easy, we thought. The Nugget now can just wake us up with his feeding requests… we’ll change him, feed him and nighty-night.

That’s about the time I should have knocked on wood. BUT OH NO. Instead, the bass starts pumping and do I hear an amplified voice? Do I hear an amplified voice preaching?

Oh yes. It’s 8:00 in the p.m. AND the baby needs to sleep…not to mention his sleep-deprived parents.

I have to get on the (dirty) phone and call the front desk and yes, it’s the religious service/conference thingy on the 6th floor above us. And no, there aren’t any rooms left. AND no, they can’t go and ask them to be quiet because the manager (not in, naturally) allows this event to take place every year. AND AND AND, they’re scheduled to be wrapped up at around 11 pm.

ELEVEN. This nightmare goes to eleven!

In the meantime, the drums have started in, as well as the keyboard and assorted guitars. Stomping. Clapping. A whole lotta LOUDNESS is reverberating in our roooom. THANK GOODNESS we brought one of our white noise machines. I put that basically up to poor Nugget’s noggin and he, after a long day, fell asleep.

But Mr. Squirrel and me? We didn’t have a white noise machine, so we just had to suck it hard UNTIL ELEVEN PM. Three hours. THREE HOURS of it. What the? Shouldn’t they have alerted us at check-in at least? How could they NOT KNOW that that event causes a tad amount of superfluous noise that might disturb the guests and that they should only put the people attending the event on the top floors uh duh?

-image-The DB Files: “Is Someone Suppose to be a Dbag in this Scenario?” (Case 101)

February 21, 2009 | Ask the Douchebag Detective!,friends

Ah loyal readers. Our first case arrived in my inbox right after I posted. This tale of boiling rage comes from a close family friend of mine whom I have known for almost 30 years. Let’s see if I can shed some (summer’s eve) light on her problem while also not instigating a family feud of the non-awesome-game-show-variety.

Actually, I want to know if Matt* and I are douchebags. So, the BigGroceryStore up here recently got those unlimited item self checkout lanes. Matt and I only go through them if we are together, and then he bags and I scan.

We have gone to the BigGroceryStore a few times lately when it is really busy, and we have gotten stuck behind or near some person with a FULL cart (once even 2 carts) and they are by themselves. They can literally take half an hour to get their shit scanned, and then bag it up.

This annoys us A LOT. We stand there huffing and puffing and glaring, and then when it is our turn we are super speedy to be like “this is HOW IT’S DONE, BITCHES!”

I never go through those lanes if I am by myself and have a lot of stuff. So are we douchebags? Thanks hollowsquirrel!!!

Hmmm, well, this doesn’t start out very easy now does it? Normally, I’d say “come on gramps, let’s MOVE IT MOVE IT” alongside you, but in this case, I’m pulling the reins on my anger train because of one word: “unlimited.”

You got in line at the “unlimited item self checkout line” behind a customer yankin’ two carts single-handedly! What did you expect, or did the customer appear Snappy McBaggerHands?

As annoying as this customer was for choosing to self scan and bag, with the info you gave me, I don’t think they’re necessarily douchebaggy… Perhaps a little stupid for choosing to go self-checkout, when the cashiers are much faster with produce codes and larger orders (ESPECIALLY when shopping without a partner!), and yes, inconsiderate.

Your huffing and puffing, while rude (and I do the same), does serve as a reminder that they should either step up their process or go to a regular line the next time, because isn’t it about getting the frozen goods home before the frozen pizza slides itself into a calzone?

So, in my (self-professed expert) opinion, there’s a little bit stupidity, and a little bit assholery found in this scenario…but with this assholery comes useful information (for the stupid shopper) on appropriate grocery line choices and expected behaviors. What do behavioralists call that– positive punishment? Or am I making stuff up (again)?

Well, I’m closing my first case and hoping that my friend and her Matt haven’t disinvited me from their wedding or force me to sit at Aunt Susan’s table at the reception!

*his name really is Matt.

-image-hold that thought!

bitterness,blog business,random randomness

What is with my laptop? Last night, without warning, the screen POOF turned ninety degrees clockwise.

That, my friends, royally blows. If any one out there has a solution to this (besides dropping the craptop off of the Tappan Zee bridge or going all Michael Bolton/Office Space on it) let me know.

Until it’s back at high noon, I’ll be attempting posts via my BlackBerry and trying not to let my mom annoy me on Facebook.

-image-Douchebags A-Plenty!

February 18, 2009 | Ask the Douchebag Detective!,bitterness,random randomness

Wow – what a great response to my last post. What? You didn’t read it?

WELL, to make a long story short (SHORT!), me, being of amazing abilities to detect yet not protect society’s douchebags, jackelopes and asshats, I’m offering to examine situations in your life wherein you’re wondering if people in your life fit into these unfortunate categories or if, per chance, but probably not likely, that you, my fair reader, are a douchebag. I know. I can’t keep nothin’ short. I blab.

Please email me your situation (to hollowsquirrel at gmail dot com). Yes, that means you MAY have to delurk. *shudder* I know. But just think — it’s not like you have to shower and throw on the zip-n-go to head to the post office. Nope. Just email. Whew.

I plan on examining Case 101 tomorrow. Look for it!

In the meantime, what’s with the individually wrapped prunes? Oh yes. I said it: PRUNES. They’re PRUNES. Dried plums my plugged up ass. Let me just call a complete and utter waste of plastic where I see it. I’m all for the dried plum/prune…whatever, I’ll let the marketing modification slide. But wrapped each and every little one? Jackelopery, I say. GOOD DAY.

-image-Allow me… to introduce me

February 17, 2009 | "project!"

MYSELF I know. I was being non-funny.

I’ve decided to extend the area of services I provide (to myself) by opening up my blog to your situations…situations in which you find yourself, and you wonder “am I the douchebag here? Could it be me…or is it really my neighbor (boss, husband, friend, etc.)?”

Far be it from me to toot my own horn (except ROOTY TOOT TOOT) (I love to toot me own horn) (and yes, I meant that in a m@sterbation joke kind of way), but I consider myself somewhat of a …

Douchebag Detector. Jackelope Huntress. Unfriend of the Asshole.

For the most part, I think I behave in a considerate manner and try to follow society’s rules so that we can all just get along. And then that dick at the grocery store has to go and stand in line with NOTHING in his hands, so I’m all “excuse me (jackelope), are you in line?” And he says “uh, yeah…I guess so…” so I kind of give him the “well where’s your STUFF dude…or are you stocking up on air today?” look. He looks kind of embarrassed and then he says “oh here’s my wife (with her ginormously stuffed cart).” I have an idea, asshole. Wait. Your. Fucking. Turn and don’t stand in line until you’re ready to go. I had to even back up a little to let her through.

Can you believe that shit?

If you’re reading this thinking I’m the asshole, well then you probably won’t take me up on my offer, but to others…should you find yourself in a situation where you’re not sure whether or not your hatred at your neighbors(‘ stockpiling their garbage on the side of the garage that faces your yard but they can’t see it and isn’t that convenient…FOR THEM) is warranted (hmmm…could this be bothering me?), then email me (at hollowsquirrel at gmail dot com) with the subject line DOUCHEBAG DETECTOR and please, let me know what is going on.

I will review the situation, post as much of the issue on my blog as you allow me and make suggestions for solving the situation. I may even contact you directly to learn your mental health benefits/co-pay and sign you up, myself, for a Jackelopes Anonymous 12 step program. I mean, if need be. I’m sure you’re not a douchebag!

I’d be honored to help support you with the douchebags in your life, so please, let me know if I can assist.

Stacy Squirrel,
Douchebag Detective…at your service.

-image-I’ll Be Honest with You.

February 12, 2009 | Confessional

1. I still have no fricking idea what The Matrix is about. Before Mr. Squirrel left on his business trip, he tried for the umpteenth time to explain it to me. I just can’t get it. It makes no sense. And there’s two more movies after the first? Oh my WHY? I can’t even get through the first paragraph of the Wikipedia explanation because my mind starts to go gooey.

2. I need a shower. One of my best friends came over two nights ago to help me put the boys to bed. After we got them down (and by “down” for Jojo it just means bathed, brushed and read to… he was still up and pounding the walls), she said “Do you want to take a shower? You look greasy.” Thanks love. Thanks a lot. Well, at least she can be honest with me, right? And yes, I did shower then.

3. I cut the curtains in our living room with scissors. And I didn’t just trim the bottom…I cut a good 3 feet off the bottom. I just couldn’t stand them pooling and cluttering up the floor.

4. I ate a toasted bagel with ham, cheese and egg and two doughnuts for breakfast today.

5. I plan on going to Wendy’s for lunch.

6. When I’m stressed, I gorge on food. When I’m angry, I clean. When I’m tired, I Facebook or blog.

7. I think that mom who just had octuplets is a high-functioning psychiatric mess. She’s on food stamps yet can afford to get french tips. She’s unemployed yet can afford multiple plastic surgeries on her face. I have zero tolerance for her or the situation she completely brought on herself and am just sick to my stomach that her children may suffer at her selfish hands. I rarely pray, but I pray that the only assistance she receives from the generous public goes wholly to the children and that she receives some free, SERIOUS mental health services because she’s a molten hot mess. Also? french tips? Really?

8. I’ve been so so SO super done with Grey’s Anatomy and wonder if Izzy and George remember what happens when actors with one successful show get all full of themselves and leave to pursue other options. I hope you have been saving your money.

9. I have to go outside now and chop fucking ice and carry ridiculously heavy slabs of ice out of my driveway because my driveway is already a slippery, mogul-filled, iceberg right ahead impassable disaster.

-image-Fly on the wall

February 10, 2009 | Jojo

Like myself, Jojo is a talker. This kid needs his own reality show to feature his dramatic gestures, facial expressions and hilarious sayings which I always intend on documenting but mostly forget. Here are some recent things heard around Casa de Squirrel that I managed to remember…

Mr. Squirrel: Jojo, finish your dinner.
Jojo: First I have to dry my tears. (cue the dramatic music)

while playing with toothpicks and mini marshmallows…
Me: Let’s be careful. Remember what mommy always says!
Jojo: Mommy’s the boss!
Me: Well, I meant “safety first,” but that works, too.

while wailing in timeout…
Jojo: BABY NUGGET…SAVE ME FROM TIME-OUT…PLEEEEEEEAAAAASSSSSSE!

Me: Jojo, what happened to the toilet paper? That’s very wasteful. We don’t unroll the toilet paper into the toilet like that.
Jojo: Mom, I’m sorry. I’m SO sorry.
Me: Thank you for apologizing. Let’s not do that again with the toilet paper.
Jojo: Mom, I love you. Can I give you a hug and kiss?
he comes over to give me a hug and kiss, but when I kiss him, he turns my face and says…
Jojo: No momma, I have to do this by myself (and kisses my cheek).

Me: How’s the pasta?
Jojo: It’s not pasta, mom. It’s mac and CHEEEESE.
Me: Well, how does the mac and cheese taste?
Jojo: Good. Thank you, mommy, for making it.
Me: You’re welcome.

Mr. Squirrel: We’ll build one more mermaid castle and then it’s time for bath.
Jojo: NOOOOO THAT’S NOT A GOOD PLAN.

While driving home from the store with the boys…
Me: Jojo, what’s baby Nugget doing back there?
Jojo: He’s just sitting and thinking.
Me: oh good. He’s not sleeping?
Jojo: No, not yet. He’s tired though from all that shopping.

Jojo to Nugget: Nugget, you’re a sassy monkey boy!!
(Hmmm where does he get this from?)

These past seven days without Mr. Squirrel around have been incredibly difficult and trying. Jojo has been acting out with much more frequency than usual, but recording and sharing these sweet and funny words from him give me a glimmer of hope that I won’t end up in a padded cell, crying in the fetal position. I may just make it through…until Friday. Friday. FRIDAY. I mean, just a few short days away. Weeeee!

-image-Wish You Were Here

February 8, 2009 | Uncategorized

Oh this single parent gig sucks royal donkey balls. Even with my kind friends’ help, all of this ‘quality’ time with the boys has broken me. I’m completely and utterly spent. Game. Set. Match. Jojo wins.