Sunday, February 8, 2009

"Let's Call It Even" [Creep Of The Week]

It was a close call between Doris and the asshat who decided to disallow bringing your own alcohol to the Preakness, but I think the biggest creep ultimately won.

Since it was 55 degrees out, John and I spent the day kicking it on the terrace drinking some Leffe, Southampton Abbot 12 and jamming out to Songlines.

As expected, when Doris threw our original sign back, she included the remnants of the pumpkin in the delivery.

Since we hadn't heard anything back since out last communication, and the pumpkin was still strewn across the terrace, we decided to reach across the aisle.

Well, sort of...

It reads:

Let's call it even. You haven't offered an alternative explanation as to how our pumpkin was executed, so we must assume you did the deed. If you throw this bag out (or use it in one of your famous pumpkin, pigeon feather and dead cat pies) we'll forget this ever happened.
With love, 115 <3]

However, we also added some additional favors to our return package:

I wonder if it is still where we left it...

BTW: If you have an Aunt who is a former caterer who makes a mean corn relish, and a friend to isn't afraid to murder innocent animals, I highly recommend a venison sausage, corn relish and mustard sandwich.

And for good measure, here is a plug for North Coast Brewery which makes and Old Stock Ale (11.7% ABV), Blue Star (the best session beer possible) and a beautiful Belgian-stlye brew, Brother Thelonious:


  1. That bag with the pumpkin in it on her roof looks like a fucking IED.

  2. you guys are too much. I almost feel bad for the old bag. When she finally decides she's had enough of your shit, can I move in next door and have you build me a sweet garden terrace? also thanks for the h/t over the weekend - tell me you guys support the Slanket in the battle of wizard douche sleeve blankets.

  3. Schiff, I'm guessing she's rent controlled, so don't hold your breath. We'll happily build you a sick terrace set-up, but be advised, we don't come cheap.


  4. Update: I'm not at work today and just checked the terrace. The bag is gone.

    This tumultuous affair may be over.

  5. Oh, shit...forgot to tell you this...

    Last night I was woken up to some sort of pitter-pattering that was coming from the terrace. So I decided to get up and investigate. As I made way onto the terrace I could see crazy Doris crouched over, (what looked like to be a squirrel position) go to town on each cig butt that was left in the bag of love. As i caught her attention, she paused-looked over at me but then just went back to eating her parliament light appetizer. (Probably too dark to see me) So I stepped out little further to get a better look and this time she saw me for real...

    Not sure what to do, I froze like a deer in head lights, remembering that strippers and dinosaurs can only see you by your body movement. But before I had time to react further, she hissed at me and while still chomping on a couple of butts, scurried back into her dwelling.

    It all happened so fast. I was excited but scared. Truly a site to see. If I had a video camera, I would have sent that shit to the National Geographic Channel with the title, "Rare Citing of the UWS Creep of the Week".

    God, it feels good to be a gangster.

    (Sorry, a bit slow in the office today)

  6. LOL...

    A rare sighting indeed. Not exactly a Snow Leopard, but close.