Dumpster Drama: Episode 1

I've finally moved to the back of my building, and so now I once again have a lovely view of a dumpster -- this time the next-door-building's dumpster and carport area. So instead of Scenes from a Balcony, we are back to good ol' Dumpster Dramas! How excited are you?

Our new saga brings us to Episode 1: Drunk Girl vs. Angry Dude

Last night at around 1 AM this car drove through to the end of the carport and dropped off this obviously drunk girl. She got out, then she and this guy (the driver) had some sort of a spat, and then the guy said something like "Forget it" and got back in the car. He revved up his engine and backed out of the carport, and Drunk Girl cried out, "Nick! Don't go! Wait!"

Then I heard click click click click and "Nick! NICK!" She was running in high-heeled shoes after him. "Nick!! Stop!!" She became more frantic as she ran. "NICK!! NIIIIICKK!!! STOP!!!"

He didn't stop, and this continued on until her voice and the click click click noises faded.

And I thought, Oh honey, I don't care how drunk you are or how hot he is...never -- NEVER -- run after a man in heels.

THE END.

Ghetto Living

So in response to my many Dumpster Dramas, blogtroll was happy enough to enlighten me on Ghetto Living - a series of YouTube videos made by NutCheese. Here's chapter 1, and I have to say, I'll be keeping an eye on these.

Happy Anniversary, Sweepea's Lounge

Tomorrow will be our ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY, but since I'll be out of town this week due to Thanksgiving, I thought I'd post this today.

Wow!! It's been a whole year, and so much has changed! We used to be pink, and I used to be a blonde! So...taking a walk down memory lane, here's some of our momentous firsts:

First Post Eh-vah! (and first mention of Errol Flynn)
First "Va Va Voom" Star of the Day: Julie London
First Star Sighting of the Day: Sean Maguire. Now he's on that one sitcom with the guy who does that thing...
First Dumpster Drama... Act I, people!
First Must-Rent Movie: Sunset Blvd

...and as they say at the end of the birthday song: "and many more...!!" Have a happy Thanksgiving!

Dumpster Drama: Act XVII

Well, it's time for another Dumpster Drama, or what I witness outside my bedroom window at God-forsaken hours.

Some new guy has moved in to our building. This is weird in itself, seeing as how our building is being demolished in February. Why would the management company take new people? Oh yeah -- money.

Anyhoo, New Guy is still finding his bearings in the building. He's rather young, and seems a bit lost and naive. Twice I've had to lend him my laundry key because he's locked himself out from of the laundry room. But last night was what can only be called a sitcom moment.

It's 2:00 in the morning and I hear Newbie trudging into the carport area near the dumpster to throw out trash. He tosses it in, and then I hear him say an expletive. I sit up and look out the window. He's gone inside the dumpster, rummaging through it for something he mistakenly threw in. I guess he's never heard the saying, "Don't throw out the baby with the bath water."

Now curious as to what is so important as to wade through garbage and filth, I lean farther to see. He's knee deep in garbage, throwing things aside to look. A couple minutes later he steps out of the dumpster, cursing. He's brushing himself off and mumbling obscentities when his eye catches something. He bends down and picks up the object -- it's a plastic trash can lid. So that's what he was looking for! The lid to his own trashcan. But it wasn't in the dumpster that he just spent time wading through, it was on the ground the entire time.

Supremely pissed off at this point, he throws the lid across the carport and shouts out more expletives. At this point all I can do is stifle a laugh.

Poor guy.

Dumpster Drama: Act XVI

Whoo, sorry it's been such a slow week. There's been a lot going on at work and then I was out the last couple days taking some Advanced Photoshop classes (which will definitely come in handy for making more romance novel covers with my face).

But early yesterday morning there was another eventful Dumpster Drama. This time it was quite literally a dumpster drama because it happened as the two garbage collectors pushed the dumpster behind my apartment in to the street to empty in to the truck.

The two men were having quite the political debate at 6 AM. I awoke to the sound of one of the men saying, very poignantly:

Here you have the most precious, innocent thing in the world - a child - and someone comes along and does that! It's just wrong, man!

Now I don't know what he was talking about, but I'm sure it was a valid point. But couldn't he have waited to make his point at 8?

Dumpster Drama: Act XV

So I went out with the girls last night and had some margaritas. When I got home I fell into bed and passed out. About 2:30 in the AM the new guy who lives in the formerly occupied space of the alcoholic man came home with two of his buddies. "Well, we made it," he said, and his buddies chuckled as they clomped upstairs.

I settled back to sleep when suddenly I heard a huge SPLASH!! In my half-drunk, half-asleep stupor, I thought my toilet was overflowing. But when I followed the continual splashing noises, I realized someone was in the pool.

It was the new guy.

Swimming.

In the buff.

I peeked through the blinds and then wondered how long I could stand there peeking before someone noticed me. After another moment of thought, I finally went back to bed. Apparently someone was drunker than I was.

Dumpster Drama: Act XIV

Wow, do I regret doing this Roman numeral thingie. Anyhoo...because of the stupid signage on the street of my building, you have to watch where you park. On Thursdays it's one side, on Fridays another, etc. etc.

And on this particular evening I happened to have to park three blocks away because everyone decided to park on the street instead of in the carport. And I - being an utterly poor, non-working bartender-slash-pinup-girl, could not afford the extra $50 a month to have a parking space in the carport. So there it is.

So I'm walking the three blocks in four-inch high heels (which I also later regretted) to my building, and just as I get around the corner I hear raised voices and see flashing lights. Apparently the parking meter dude just left a nice little love note on some guy's car, and the guy was not very happy about it. I could barely make out the words (which shall be represented by [ ]) of what they were saying, because at this point I'm hiding in some bushes, hoping to not get stabbed or shot or somehow caught in the crossfire of this heated argument. (I also edited some of this dialogue.)

Parking Dude: Well I'm sorry [ ] parking in [ ] is clearly posted.
Some Guy: You effing [ ] you mother-effing stupid-ass bee? (Don't know why this was in the form of a question, but...)
Parking Dude: Sir, you are clearly parked [ ] and this zone [ ] restricted --
Some Guy: Well I'm not going to pay the [ ] mother-effer. What are you gonna [ ]?? And [ ] you, and eff you!!

Then Some Guy got into his pickup truck and peeled out of the street, drove through the intersection, and tore up the main street. The Parking Dude got on his walkie talkie and notified somebody - I'm guessing the police - and described the Guy and his vehicle.

All in all I think it's surprising the lengths Some Guy will go to in order to avoid paying a $60 ticket. Then again, this is the length I go to in order to avoid paying the extra 50 bucks to park in my carport.

...And...CURTAIN.

Dumpster Drama: Act XIII

It was a weird night last night in my apartment complex.

First of all, the AMU has decided to move. When I got home from work last night his stuff was all moved out and there was a FOR RENT sign posted on the front lawn.

At about 12:30 there were tons of sirens from fire engines, which made every dog in the neighborhood howl.

Lastly, at 1:50 in the AM I got a text message from an unknown number that said Yo hold up daddy.

I almost wish I had gotten drunk last night so it could've all made sense.

Oh well...

...And, CURTAIN.

Dumpster Drama: Act XII

Yes, It's been a while since the last Dumpster Drama, but what can I say? Things have either really toned-down in my apartment complex, or I've become a heavier sleeper. Well, the long wait is over because finally something happened the other night.

At about 1:30 in the morning, the Alcoholic Man Upstairs, or AMU, decided to stumble into the carport area and drunk-dial his ex-wife. Through the slurring I could hear bits and pieces of his conversation to her.

Well thass just unfair... You're being reedickoolus... No, you are... You said that before and it juss doesn't make sense. At all. Not even a lil bit. ...How can you say that?... You don even know wha you're talkin about.
(long pause as he either listens to her or passes out)
Don think I don remememember that. Don think I don think about that ev'ry time I... No, no, thass not wha I'm sayin... I'm sayin that you don know what you're talkin about.

AMU proceeded to repeat these various phrases for about another half hour. I don't know what they could be arguing over, but there is something about listening to a drunk-dial that is always entertaining. Perhaps it is because we're at our most desperate, depressed, and vulnerable when we drunk-dial, and that's what makes us most human. And eavesdropping on such a human dialogue reminds us how vulnerable we can all be at times.

I was sad at first listening to him, but to be honest, I was just happy that it wasn't me that night.

...And, CURTAIN.

(Click here for a previous Dumpster Drama with AMU)

Dumpster Drama: Act XI

Time for another Dumpster Drama:
With all the rain happening in SoCal ("all the rain" being a day and a half of it) it's been particularly cold and dreary in the early mornings.

This morning at about 4:30 AM I was awaken by the sounds of light tinkling, like little bells. I sat up and let the fog in my head clear, when I realized that it was bottles clinking.

I got up and looked out the window to see a hooded figure peering in to the dumpster searching for bottles and cans. As the hooded figure turned to put the found items into a bag, I saw that it was an older woman. She worked steadily in the cold and rain, searching for more bottles and cans, putting them in her bag, going back in to the dumpster for more.

I settled back in to my bed and had trouble going back to sleep. I thought how often I complained about my life. Sometimes I wish I lived in a bigger apartment, had nicer clothes, or had more money. But seeing that woman huddled over the dumpster in the rain at 4 AM, I had to thank God that I was lucky enough that morning to have a warm bed to curl up in.

And...Curtain.

Dumpster Drama: Act X

Act X sounds like it should be an action/adventure flick. [Thanks, Becca, for help with the Roman numerals, btw.] Unfortunately, there were no explosions or flying kicks in this Dumpster Drama, but nonetheless...

The poor tawny-haired girls that live upstairs...*sigh* Sometimes you have to feel sorry for them. They returned from a night out at about 3:00 in the morning, and I awoke to their huge stripper heels clomping up the stairs. Then the door slammed shut.

Not two minutes later, I heard above me loud clomping that got quicker and louder as it headed to the bathroom.

CLOMPCLOMPCLOMPCLOMPCLOMP!! and then bleeeeee-aaaaugh! in to the toilet with a loud SPLASH.

And the second blonde ran in after her: CLOMPCLOMPCLOMPCLOMPCLOMP!! and then she slurred, "Are you okaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy?"

You gotta feel sorry for the first drunk girl because she had to run in such big clompy shoes to the toilet. But of course I feel most sorry for the second drunk girl who was holding #1's hair back the rest of the night.


...And...CURTAIN.

Dumpster Drama: Act IX

I'm not very good with the Roman numerals, and I'm starting to run out of an idea of what comes next... Anywho, another Dumpster Drama occurred in the carport area outside my bedroom window. This time it was at 1:30 AM.

I heard a car pull in to a space and then someone got out of the car. Then I heard a male's voice greet the two blonde girls that live upstairs who were walking through as well. The male voice was that of none other than Resident Himbo Carl.

"Hey, ladies," he said in his super suave way.
"Hi Carl," they replied in unison.
"Hey you guys just getting in?" They must have nodded. "Well you still look hot, even at this time of the night."
The girls giggled softly but didn't respond.
"Hey," he went on, "My friend - he works at Dreamworks with Steven Speilberg - he's throwing a party tomorrow night. You guys wanna go?"
"Okay," they said, giggling more.
"Sweet," he said, chuckling. "Night."

I rolled over in bed and thought about the conversation. First of all, any time I hear Carl speak it is something to muse over. Secondly, the half-compliment he gave was amusing: "even at this time of the night" the girls "still" looked hot.

Lastly, the fact that he had so obviously name-dropped. I mean, if Steven Speilberg was going to be at the party, that'd be one thing. But to say that his friend who is throwing the party works at Dreamworks (with Steven Speilberg) was such a blatant attempt at trying to impress the girls, that it was almost sad.

It made me wonder if, for all his arrogance and posing around the apartment building, if deep down he was just insecure and unsure about himself as the Average Joe. And that thought made me feel a little sorry for him. ...But we'll see how long that feeling lasts.

And...CURTAIN.

Dumpster Drama: Act VIII

Tonight's Dumpster Drama started at 7:15 in the PM. I heard a car pulling in to the carport outside my bedroom window. Then I heard a second car.

My apartment carport is not the biggest area in the world for one car, let alone two, so I leaned out my window to see how they were going to deal with this. I saw that it was two cars with a woman in each, but the second car had a child in the back seat.

The woman in the first car got out and said, "Um, maybe if you back out a little I can turn into my spot and then you can go."

The second woman (the one with the kid) got out of her car and said, "What the f*** do you think you're doing? Where the f*** did you learn how to drive?"

At this point people started peering out their windows along with me. I keep looking at the kid in the backseat, watching his mom drop the F bombs left and right.

"How the f*** am I supposed to park here? How long have you lived in this f***ing country, motherf***er? This is f***ing ridiculous!"

And the other woman said, "Are you kidding me with this?" and got back in her car.

Finally someone from the window next to me shouted, "Hey - what kind of mother are you using that kind of language in front of your kid?"

Now realizing the entire building was watching and listening to her, she looked up at the windows and pointed randomly, shouting, "You're a motherf***er, too! You're all motherf***ers!" Then she got into her car and pulled out of the carport.

I wondered how the conversation with her child proceeded following this display. But then I thought: with a mother like that, he's probably used to it.

And...Curtain.

Think of it as a Clip Show...

So sick of it all that I bailed from work early to pack a bag and get the hell out of town. I'll be gone all weekend, so you'll just have to deal with reliving the dear moments that I've already posted.

Peruse to your will, but my favorite posts are:

Dumpster Drama: Act I - the one that started it all.

Sanka Saved This Family - the story of Billy, and the social worker that saved his fanny.

"Va Va Vodka" Ad of the Day - favorite vintage ad with the Lounge's favorite gal Julie London.

I Want the Name of this Decorator - the Lounge's first Design Disaster.

...Or check out the categories to the right for your favorite topics.

Enjoy! [exit theme music, mild applause]

Dumpster Drama: Act VII

It was an overwhelmingly dramatic Dumpster Drama last night in the carport behind my apartment building. There were two things going on simultaneously that it was almost like a Shakespearean tragedy was unfolding.

The Alcoholic Man Upstairs decided to get drunk and crank up Sarah Vaughan music until 2:00 in the morning. The song in particular that I remember playing was "My Man's Gone Now," because it made the AMU wail "Sarah....Sarah...."

At the same time a couple was fighting outside on the street. So imagine a soulful orchestral rendition of a classic jazz singer while this argument is playing out:

Her: But you said you wouldn't change your mind.
Him: I know that's what I said. But I did. I'm sorry.
Her: I don't understand. You can't just end things. Not like this.
Him: I'm sorry, but I can't be with you anymore. It's just too hard. It shouldn't be this difficult.
Her: Wait! Don't walk away from me. Let's talk about this.
Him: There's nothing to talk about. Nothing's gonna change.
(He must've walked down the street, because she began to cry harder.)
Her: Wait! Come back! Patrick, come back!!

Even though the girl seemed a little desperate chasing him down the street, after he'd made it clear that his decision was final, I still felt sorry for her. And I don't think I would've gotten teary-eyed like I did if it wasn't for Sarah Vaughan's song playing over it all...

My man's gone now
Ain't no use a listenin'...
Tell' me that I'm old now
Since I lose my man

And...Curtain.

Life is Beautiful

Last night after finally completing the last detail of redeco'ing the Lounge, I treated myself by cooking a fantastic dinner and uncorking a bottle of wine. After the second glass, I found that Norma Shearer's 1930 movie "The Divorcee" was showing, so I settled in to watch that. After another couple of glasses of wine, I decided on a cigarette. Took me 10 minutes to remember where I hid them from myself. Oh yeah - behind my British Lit book from college.

I sat on my front porch with a glass of wine and smoked, and I saw Winston poke his head out from behind the blinds in the apartment next to me. He mewed at me and then Muscles and his girlfriend came home. Winston must have sensed their return.

As I finished my cigarette the wind blew through the courtyard and through the palm trees and it made a peaceful, whistling sound. I found myself smiling, thinking - ironically - how alive a cigarette can make you feel.

I went back inside to finish "The Divorcee," and Norma Shearer looked beautiful. The movie is primarily about old friends that lose touch because of a divorce, and so I had a sudden impulse to make random phone calls to friends. I called KT and had to leave a message for her. Called Gina and we caught up. Called Lou and spoke to him for a while. Then I called my old roommate Pokey and we rehashed.

I went to bed later than usual, telling myself that I'd treat myself even more by sleeping in tomorrow. And the good feeling didn't end there. When I woke up in the morning, there were those two ducks swimming in my pool again.

A beautiful Lounge, a beautiful evening, and a beautiful life.

Dumpster Drama: Act VI

It's been a while since there's been any drama in my apartment building, what with the holidays and all the theatrics in other parts of my life. But finally here's the latest Dumpster Drama:

It was about 1 AM on a weekday night. I kept hearing sirens going down the street, and usually I tune them out, but after the fifth siren or so I knew something was up. Not only that but I heard huge trucks idling outside.

I pulled on a sweatshirt over my pj's and went into my apartment courtyard. Red lights were flashing and they bounced over all the walls. As I went further towards the street intersection, I finally grasped what was going on: fire engines, police cars, and traffic cars were all over the intersection. Flares directed traffic to detour down my street. And all the residents on all four corners of the intersection had come out to see what was going on.

I asked a man standing on the sidewalk what he knew. He stated that apparently there was a fire in an apartment building down the street, and it was centered on the roof.

A man with a pipe approached us and asked us what was going on. We relayed what we knew already. "Well, as a former Fire Marshall, this is pretty standard procedure," he claimed. I asked him why there was so much police presence, and an over-abundance of fire trucks for such a small blaze (we couldn't even see or smell it from where we were).

"Well, the police and firemen in this town have nothing better to do because we don't get a lot of crime around here. So when something happens - anything - they all come out with full gear ready to roll."

Huh. Well that's good that I live in such a safe neighborhood. And it was also nice to see other single people in the vicinity. People just like me, standing in their pajamas, not knowing what to do. Just then more firemen pulled up and I exchanged looks with some of the other girls around me on the sidewalk. We all smiled with the same thoughts going through our heads. Jackpot!

And...Curtain.

Dumpster Drama: Act V

It's time indeed for yet another Dumpster Drama.

This night's drama began at 4:00 AM - yes, in the dawn's early light. I heard some girl cackling as she spoke with two other male voices. It went on for a while until suddenly a man from my building yelled: "Hey, could you shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep!"

The girl acted shocked and hurt as she replied, "Oh my God...Shut up." Her dudes laughed with her.

The sleepy guy yelled back: "Why don't you make your money on some other corner?!"

And the classy girl shouted back: "[Eff] you!"

Now, I know I don't have hookers in my neighborhood...celebrities, yes. Hookers, no. But it made me think that no matter where you live - or how much rent you pay - there's trash everywhere. And not just in the dumpster.

And...Curtain.

Relive the dramatic moments of Act I, Act II, Act III, and Act IV.

Dumpster Drama: Act IV

It's time once again for another Dumpster Drama. I was walking from my car to the dumpster/carport area when I saw one of my neighbors (the hot fitness instructor who unfortunately lives with his girlfriend) staring up at the building.

He looked like he was peeping-Tomming into someone's bedroom window, and I must've given him a quizzical look, because Muscles turned to me and explained, "My cat escaped our apartment and is on the roof."

He pointed up and - sure enough - there was the little feline, mewing atop the second-story building, looking down at us with his frightened, whiskered face. "Come down here!" Muscles shouted up to him, and the cat just meowed back. The little daredevil seemed to be enjoying the attention; he walked along the roof, none-too-carefully, almost strutting his prowess of balance and grace on such a precarious ledge.

Then, in the most sudden and dramatic flurry, the cat decided he was done with his trick and took a Peter Pan off the roof, his four legs outstretched. Muscles shouted, "Winston!!" and I gasped, just as the cat (which I assumed was named Winston) landed directly in the burly arms of Muscles (the lucky pussy).

Without a word to me, Muscles held Winston close and took him inside, berating him for giving us a fright. And I found myself chuckling, realizing how even the strongest of giants has their weakness.

And...Curtain.

Relive the dramatic moments of Act I, Act II, and Act III.

Dumpster Drama: Act III

Yes, it's time once again for another Dumpster Drama.

Tonight's drama actually fell upon my ears on an early Saturday morning at 7:30 AM. It began when a young girl slammed the gate so loud that my apartment shook. A woman whom I assumed was her mother followed her. Both were a little upset, so I've severely edited their dialogue.

"You come back here!" the mother yelled.
"No, you're being a [female dog]!" was the daughter's respectful reply.
"I hate you!" the mature adult responded.
"Not as much as I hate you!" the daughter said.
(car doors opening and slamming shut)
"Don't you dare get into that car," the mother said.

Finally a third woman emerged. "Are you aware that the whole building can hear you?" she screamed. I almost shushed her. This was good stuff.

The girl's tearful reply was, "I don't give a [poopie] who's listening. I don't want to go anywhere with that [bee with an itch]."
Then the mother said "Get in the [effing] car!"

More doors slammed shut. I could still here the squabbling occuring in the car, but couldn't make out any more poetic words being exchanged between mother and daughter.

I have yet to find out what the argument stemmed from, but then again, this kind of argument sounds like it could not come from one simple thing. Hopefully the three ladies were driving off to family counseling.

And...Curtain.

Relive the dramatic moments of Act I & Act II.