Oceanside gay murders, Balboa Theater, Gringo goes to TJ hospital, 20K fetuses, dog served at TJ restaurant
Bob McPhail 8:30 a.m., Aug. 17
I never really watched Melrose Place. Was more of a Beverly Hills, 90210 kind of girl, but everyone knows the premise of the show: hot singles, all with fantastic jobs, hooking up with their fellow MP neighbors, typically in the pool which was the central feature of their courtyard.
I, too, have a courtyard where I live. And while there is no pool, it still gives me a semi-community feeling, maybe just due to the fact I can see out my window as my neighbors come and go. To be honest, my building looks more like an old motel. It's not rundown necessarily, it's just really brown. Brown, plain and when it rains the sidewalks are covered with racing snails. Barf.
Instead of the gorgeous neighbors that I could only hope for, I am surrounded by an odd assortment of people. Sex appeal need not apply. To begin, I have two nemeses and they are, I'm going to guess, approximately six- or seven-years old. They have twice attacked me with their water guns as I have been leaving for work. The third time I saw them stand opposite of me on their own concrete steps, watching me descend mine, I heard one tell the other, 'Get her!' That is when I stopped to stare at them and in my lowest, quietest, most threatening voice said, 'I wouldn't shoot if I were you.' Clearly, I am the fun hater in the complex, but really I'm not looking to get wet and run from kids either.
The lady below me wears the same outfit everyday. Basketball shorts, a purple shirt with a hole near the bottom, banana clip and house shoes. Being a writer, I understand that she may not have an office job to go to (or even a job at all) but can she really pull nothing else out of her closet? During my stint of unemployment, I still dressed like I had somewhere to go, because I prayed to God that any minute a potential mployer would call me and tell me that I did. Any day I think, surely she will wear something else. It's been almost three months. No dice.
Next door to me is a lady I adore. Why? Because I rarely see her, never hear her and my only complaint is that once in awhile she will cook something spiked with a spice that is not agreeable with my nose. My other next door neighbor just moved out and has been replaced with an unseen tenant; although, I caught a glimpse inside the apartment (the door was open!) and there was a lot of bamboo and a strong scent of incense wafting out the door, an in-home spa perhaps?
The thought doesn't elude me that my tenants may have similar opinions about my odd traits. One, being that I typically wear all black and two, I just smile and say a quick hello most days. They might think I'm a witch. Or, a bitch. I'm not trying to be rude and yes, so I'm judgmental, but it'd be the same if they were of Melrose Place caliber, the only difference is that there'd be a potential hook-up in their and my future. As it is, it's probably the best little motel look alike to live in. No one knows me and I don't know them, drama avoided and peace intact; if that's not a prime living situation, I don't know what is.