Monday, January 6, 2014

1.6.14 Bee-otch of the Day: a neighbor of mine...

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Name: anonymous
Age: 2x
Occupation: Chinese restaurant waiter
Last Seen: Grand Rapids, MI
Bee-otched For: being a drunk idiot


I know, I know. We shouldn't stereotype people based on where they're originated.

I grew up in lily white northern Michigan in the 80's and 90's. Rarely did I see any blacks or Asians, although Hispanics and Native Americans seemed to be more prevalent thanks to the cherry orchards and casinos naturally.

When I moved to west Michigan in 2000, it was the most-diverse moment in my life. I went to a trade school and my roommates were all black. I tried my damndest to accept them, but they seemed to not accept me very well. Sometimes, they mooched off me and I had to do all the work for them. Thankfully, I graduated, found a job and found a place of my own.

Like all dwellings, my apartment has its perks and negatives. My place is a melting pot of whites, blacks, Hispanics, Asians and people from weird countries I've never heard of before. The place I live at is cheap, but sadly, I have to deal with the neighbors and their loud stereos and TVs. Plus, despite the fact that my complex is all one-bedroom apartments, some people have children who run around and scream, which becomes a massive disturbance.

A few weeks ago, I came home after a long, 10-hour day when on the third floor, a Vietnamese man, about in his 20s and with long black hair started screaming at me. He was asking if I smoked, and I said "no". He then asked if I could take him to the party store down the street to buy smokes and beer, and he would pay me $10 to do so. I said "why not" and I put my things away, picked him up at his apartment and it was off to the party store. On the way there, he was quite talkative, talking about how the gas stations were run by Indians, the nail salons were owned by Vietnamese and so on. He seemed to be OK, but I was kinda sketchy about him. We exchanged numbers and I was paid $8.50 (not $10) for my help.

Two weeks passed, and he called while I was about to eat my Hot Pockets in my pajamas. I figured that it would only take a few minutes once again, but nope! I came into his apartment where he was scantily clad in his boxers and handed me a Heineken. One beer couldn't hurt, so I went down to the store, got his smokes and a six-pack of Heinis, and headed back to his place. I thought that was it, but I was dead wrong.

For the next two hours he was sitting there, talking about the same shit he was talking to me about, but added on a bunch of shit about Obama. He was saying that people hate Obama because of Obamacare, plus in his words, if you live off the government, you're not free. OK, so apparently, this prick believes that we should live in a system where we pay a company thousands of dollars per year to help us fight sickness but instead uses that money for profit? Sorry, but that's stupid. I met a woman from England who moved to Michigan recently, and she misses England deeply. Healthcare is better and so is the television as well.

For those two hours, I wanted to leave, NOW. But he talked and talked and talked out of his ass. His apartment was nasty; dirty fingerprints everywhere and black mold was creeping up his bathtub walls. I always thought that I lived in squalor, but he was much worse. At least I spray down the showers every week, vacuum the floors and so forth weekly. But this guy? Talk about nasty. His "bed" is an old futon mattress on the living room floor. He does have a bedroom, but it's loaded with clothes.

What REALLY pissed me off was that every time I finished a beer, he would open up another one for me without asking. Thing is, I'm not a heavy drinker. He was slurring his speech because of his constant boozing and he wanted me to follow him. We talked about my job and he wanted me to find another one. So, he found a man who he used to work for who ran a delivery service, and asked if he could work for him, and he told him that one of his drivers was retiring, so it would be after the New Year. During this time, he was winking at me, but I knew what the plan was: after working a long, 10-hour day, I would work for this guy and the Vietnamese guy would be making all the money while I'm putting miles on my car that I hope to last another five years. I had to tell him that I had to go because I was working tomorrow, and I had to rest up. Finally, I was free.

Well, I did come back to his place the night after since he brought home some food from his restaurant, but that was the end. He was cooking rice from his FILTHY rice cooker and it just grossed me out. He was telling me to come back tomorrow night, but that was a work night and I couldn't. I told my father about him, and he agreed: I should never, ever talk to a guy like that.

Since then, I blocked his number from my phone. However, he still got to my voicemail. Last week, he tried to call me from a different phone, but I knew that it had to be him. He even texted me. Nice try.

You see, I don't mind alcohol. In my 20's, I would go to the bar on Saturday nights and drink until midnight, sober up and go home. That was it for me. But now in my 30's, I've been drinking a lot less since alcohol is not all that good for you, although some doctors are keen to one beer per day. But sadly, I've been exposed to many alcoholics in my life, and their drinking is a massive turn-off. My mother's father was an alcoholic. My dad's brother battled the bottle for years. My mother's ex-in-laws were all boozers. I had a co-worker whom I worked for on the weekends at her place who drank heavily and in the small town I lived in, people gossiped about it. Now, I have to deal with his assclown and his drinking and smoking problem.

Folks, if you don't have a car and you drink and smoke too much, it's time to reevaluate your life. People don't owe you anything. I'm not a taxi driver, and I'm not going to have a bromance with this loser. If he wants to drink and smoke to his heart's content, it's time to find a new drinking buddy. Maybe when he and his new friend wake up in a jail cell, he'll realize how fucked up his life REALLY is.

And that's what I call a dudevorce.  

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