the batshit chronicles, parts III & IV

oh, internet, where were we?

ah, yes.  i woke up on wednesday, eyes nearly swollen shut from crying (NOT like me) and headed to work.  after consulting a couple of attorneys, i wrote an email to batshit informing her of her thirty days notice (i needed to put it in writing, thought it best to do from a safe distance and cc:ing signore ar, 0f course).  it felt good.  i spent the rest of the day dreading getting a response and not getting a response.

i left work without one, and without getting as much done as i wanted.  i’m exhausted and distracted and i am not my normal ass-kicking self.  i’m trying to shake it off, but internet, you know i’m good at many things, but not that. 

i picked up my laundry after alighting from the subway and trundled home with my granny cart full of clothes.  as i reached my home, i saw batshit and her sister, with papers in hand assailing signore ar with a lot of idle threats, aspersions cast at my character and general nonsense.  they were telling him they went to a lawyer and that it was going to be a long and ugly road to get batshit out.  she brought up her “signed, legal document” many times.  i think it’s safe to say that batshit has had little experience with documents, mistaking the ones with typing and ink on them them for a legal version of achilles’ shield. 

i’d recreate the conversation, but it’s long, and irritating.  let’s just say it was like a mash-up of an episode of cops and the conversation at the mad hatter’s tea party.  salient points:

  • signore ar is having none of this- he repeatedly stood behind me noting that i’ve lived here nine years without a single problem, two months after batshit moves in, hell is breaking loose, hence batshit might be the issue,
  • batshit’s sister is as crazy, if not more, than she is,
  • batshit called me “that.”  as in “i’m scaaahed a huh.  look at the size of me and look at the size of ‘that’ (pointing past signore ar at me)”
  • batshit can really turn on the waterworks when they suit her; she should get out of fashion and get into acting.
  • i’m a horrible person, apparently, because i “attacked” batshit when she walked in on sunday.  attacked= asked for help,
  • batshit is capable of brushes with reality.  she had a moment of clarity when she realized that i was trying to offer help to her the night before and had she not freaked out, she’d have had help finding a place, and have had moving men, for free.  trust me, it was a brief moment, but it was there nonetheless,
  • for the sake of signore ar’s sanity, i agreed to two months for batshit to get the flock out. 

january 15th is allegedly d-day.  pray for me, kids.  because i do not trust this bitch as far as i can throw her.  and rumor has it that this “that” could really get some yardage if she tried.

she and her sister came up, dried off the crocodile tears, and left.  i thought they were leaving for the night and settled into the living room to watch some tv and try and relax.  the locksmith came over, added locks to my bedroom and closet doors, and i assured worried friends that i was safe for the night because bs had left.  ha ha.  spoke too soon, as usual.  she came back later, noticed i’d changed my locks and was mumbling and cursing to herself.  it was only the next day that i noticed she’d already done the same for her doors. 


in the morning, she played another plastic bag sonata and left before i’d admit i was up and get out of bed.  i knew i wouldn’t be home after work to ask her for my bills back, so i left a nice, short, polite note asking for her to leave them for me so i could pay them.  with her check, of course.

i got home late and tipsy and saw the bills on the table.  no check, of course, no explanation, just the bills.  i called all the utilities and added extra security/ changed account numbers/ and removed the cable box and wireless router from the living room.  i mean, fuck.  if she’s not going to pay for this shit, she’s not going to get it for free. 

when i woke up in the morning, i said “thanks for the bills.  i noticed there was no check.”

batshit: i don’t get paid till the end of the month (bullshit.  today’s the 15th).  i can’t pay till then. 

me: then tell me that.  i can wait if you tell me.

bs: well, theah’s nothing out theah, so i don’t know what i’d be paying faw.

me: um, the LAST month?  the one in which you used ample electricity, cable (DVRing the hills, say yes to the dress, tmz, pageant place, godknowswhatelse) and the internet; i’d switched providers because she’d asked.

then, i prudently walked away before any escalation was possible.

ready for the punchline:  i got home today and there was a check on the table for forty four dollars.  the memo on the check reads: october electricity.  the best part?  her share was actually forty four dollars and fifty seven cents.  i mean, seriously?  does shorting me fifty seven fucking pennies really give her any amount of satisfaction? 



5 Responses to “the batshit chronicles, parts III & IV”

  1. 1 christina 17 November, 2007 at 09:53

    let us not throw stones at people who dvr the hills. i mean, some peole do. some very cool people.

  2. 2 isosceles 17 November, 2007 at 13:32

    sorry. you’re right. i should have noted “keeping up with the kardashians” and “kimora lee simmons: life in the fab lane.” i think i blocked those out. though, in batshit’s defence “[she] totally loved kim kardashian before anyone else. [she’s] been a fan for years.”

  3. 3 Wai 18 November, 2007 at 00:11

    What have I done to deserve the aggravation of “Beauty and the Geek”!?

  4. 4 ms. savory 18 November, 2007 at 12:44

    I’ve got two words if it turns out you should need him…


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”


Upon common theatres, indeed, the applause of the audience is of more importance to the actors than their own approbation. But upon the stage of life, while conscience claps, let the world hiss! On the contrary if conscience disapproves, the loudest applauses of the world are of little value - john adams
November 2007
« Oct   Dec »

from the man who taught me everything:

“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.”



%d bloggers like this: