Let me preface this by saying two things:
1. A crazy bitch lives in my apartment building. She's extremely loud, highly dramatic and volatile. I have never met Crazy Bitch. But I hear her yelling ALL OF THE TIME. Is she ever happy? Or at least calm? Who knows? But one thing's for sure: She's one crazy-ass BITCH. (Crazy Bitch, if you read this, I was talking about some OTHER crazy bitch. Please don't hurt me! Kisses.)
2. Two hookers used to live in my apartment--Unit #1. In other words, they conducted BUSINESS in exchange for COMPENSATION where I now eat my breakfast, burn my CDs, take my showers, sleep...and so on.
Anyway, here's my story:
Every night, I pull straight into my driveway to park. (My parking spot is by the dumpster. Each morning, I walk out to see stray cats scampering across my hood.) Well, tonight, someone parked in my spot--so I honked my horn and hoped they would come out to move their car. It worked.
A guy walked out, said, "Sorry, I was just loading up," and moved his truck to the side.
I got out of my car and, being the newbie, said, "Oh, welcome to the building!"
He said, "No, I'm helping a friend load her stuff."
I said, "Well, thanks for moving your truck" and went inside.
As I ate my dinner, I watched the news. Over KCAL 9 news at 8, I heard loud yelling right outside my window. It was Crazy Bitch (who furthermore shall be known as "CB") yelling at the guy who was helping her move (i.e. the guy who pulled into my spot). I couldn't quite make out what she was saying--only that she wouldn't shut the fuck up. After a half-hour of her ranting, I turned down the sound on my TV to hear more clearly what her problem was. It turned out she was yelling at her male helper for letting me pull into my spot (or something to that effect).
Then, I heard her say, "Are you SURE she wasn't a hooker? Well, did she LOOK like a hooker?" It was at that moment that I wanted to quickly change into a silver tubetop and black fishnets and walk outside--as if I was "waiting" for someone. But I refrained.
Instead, I quickly thought of an excuse to walk outside so she could see that I WASN'T a hooker. So I took out my trash. I was wearing my gym clothes and glasses. Clearly, I was NOT a hooker. (Unless I was an athletic hooker with bad vision. Yeah, that could be a possibility. Hookers don't always have 20/20 vision. And they've got to do something to stay in shape; at least a little cardio now and then.)
As I walked past CB with my trash, she looked surprised. "Do you live here?" she asked.
"Yes. In Apartment #1."
"Oh." She seemed confused. "When did you move in?"
"A little over a month ago," I said.
"Are you moving out?" I inquired.
"Yes. So it'll be a little quieter around here."
I went inside and as soon as I shut my door, I heard her yelling at her helper-boy again.
Then, a thought suddenly occurred to me:
How could she think I was a hooker? She saw my car.
Do hookers drive Mazdas?