January 5, 2006 - New Year's Shenanigans

Just a quick little addition here to yesterday's post before I get on to a bigger and better story that happened today (which will take me a while to write, so bear with me here).

I mentioned to a few people, some co workers and residents, about Pinky Flyby's new business venture with the dogs and every person had the same response. It seems that Pinky has made a lot of enemies and is a real bitch. On wheels. (Sorry, I couldn't pass that one up.) I still stick with my opinions from yesterday though. I would probably be a bitch if I were her too. But nobody seems to like this woman and no one's opinion seems softened by her wheelchair bound state, which means that she has to be a real nightmare, because normally people are hesitant to say mean things about the handicapped.

Apparently Pinky's dog sitting service is not her only business. She is also a real estate agent, albeit not a very successful one. I imagine she can only show one story houses, and she cant drive people around like most real estate agents do. I'm sure she makes people enormously uncomfortable as well. I can totally empathize, you know, you don't want to make a big deal out of the chair and her drooling, and you want to act like its all perfectly normal, but it isn't, so acting like its all perfectly normal is awkward too, because everyone involved knows perfectly well that it isnt and everyone is falsely trying to act like it is anyway. Then you try not to look at the wheelchair and the drool too much, but then you realize that its obvious that you are purposely not looking, so you look, and then you feel like you're staring. The whole thing is terrible, especially if you're trying to buy a house, and that's why Pinky hasn't done so well in real estate sales.

Last year Pinky caused a war with a fellow resident because her house looks out over a lake and she can see the back of some of the houses in The Marble Arch. She was offended that one of the homes across the lake had an overly visibly grill right in the way of her view, and that the same home had hedges that were cut too short to properly conceal the air conditioning unit. She turned the poor guy in for all kinds of violations that she could find and caused a heap of aggravation for him. In return he ended up not really getting penalized for his grill or too tall AC, but he went through a lot of unnecessary red tape. Pinky was pissed that he didn't get in more trouble and in retaliation she decided to ruin his view by having a massive mural of a fish painted on the backside of her house for him to look across the lake at. He turned her in for this violation and she did get in trouble and had to paint over it and she has been mad ever since. See how petty these people are? I swear. Now let me get back to the long and involved story of the psychosis which defines The Marble Arch, where I visited today on a little field trip, which I confess was not entirely necessary, but I went anyway to gather writing material.

In other news...

I am finally just getting all the good dirt from New Years Eve in Wide Lawns. I admit, I was a little busy these past few days and I didn't have time to actively collect all the stories and write them down for you. But now I have, and after having lunch out with my friend Jenny in the Clubhouse, I got some more.

Wide Lawns went wild for New Years Eve. There were accidents, arrests and illicit sex acts. It was a regular red light district in here last weekend, and I missed it all, sitting home watching Dick Clark slur his words and make out with his wife (eww) while sipping pink champagne.

Last Saturday, before the clock struck midnight, the men in white coats were here to cart off Ms. Samantha Skrank, a recent divorcee, and long time lunatic who lives in a townhouse with her two children in St. James Park. A little background information on Ms. Skrank reveals that she has battled a lengthy eating disorder which gives her the BMI of a cornish hen, and that she assists her anorexia along with a generous helping of cocaine. She ate so little and did so much cocaine in fact that she was rendered infertile and had the children, back when she was married, with the help of a surrogate mother. Then she got divorced and had to move to a town house, while her husband moved far far away, unlike most of the Wide Lawns exes who choose to stay. While Samantha Skrank doesn't have an ex-husband in Wide Lawns to torment her, she does have a whack job of a brother and a truly evil sister in law to create drama and turmoil in his place. Storm Skrank and his wife Cyka don't get along with Samantha and love to find ways to mess with her already delicate head. Apparently they were finally able to drive her over the edge, which I imagine wasn't so difficult.

Storm and Cyka Skrank live in a sprawling mansion in our second fanciest subdivision, Exeter Commons. Storm owns a company which sells "nutritional" supplements - things like herbal Viagra, and "natural" body building aids or weight loss tablets. Its one of those shady companies you get a lot of spam from. Mr. Skrank is about 5 foot five in Nikes and never wears anything except over sized tank tops. He is spray tanned and has a bouffant of black hair that would rival a rabid cockatiel. Cyka Skrank isnt much different. She has a poodle mane of frosted curls and loves mascara. The best thing about her though is her habit of not ever wearing any undergarments whatsoever, and a bad, not so recent boob job has calcified her breasts into a state of eternal nipple erection. She also, like her husband, is never seen without gym attire and loves very small, skin tight leggings, which give her a massive and frightening camel toe situation that she actually seems to enjoy showing off ( note to Mrs. Skrank - no one likes looking at your crotch cleavage). Of course Mr. and Mrs. Skrank have procreated and have two rather unfortunately named children - Rock and Brick. God help them. I have often wondered if the four year old twins were named after each of their mother's breasts.

But back to poor Samantha. On New Years Eve, something happened between the Skrank siblings which caused Samantha to go off the deep end. No one can seem to find out exactly what it was, but it drove Samantha to a suicide attempt which resulted in her being led away, handcuffed and strapped down to a gurney and subsequently Baker Acted ( a 48 hr involuntary institutionalization).

Today Samantha got out and came home and called the HOA crying hysterically. She wanted to know how many times the police came to her house in the past month. We keep records of these sorts of things, if only to gossip about, and we knew that had only been this once. She began to cry more saying that her brother is lying to her and saying the police had been out to her home 7 times in the past month, but since she is insane and on drugs she cant remember it. We assured her it was only once and she began to choke and sob wondering why her brother would lie to her and make her think she is more crazy than she already knows she is. I wonder why too, but obviously the entire family is nuts and one cant apply any sort of logical reasoning to the things these people do. Samantha then told us that she was going through menopause and her hormones had gone awry and made her lose her mind. We advised counseling and stronger medication. She promised to look into it.

Next on our insanity agenda for New Years Eve were the Fishygills in Plymouth who threw a blow-out of a New Years Eve party, blow being a key word. These Wide Lawns people do love the cocaine. I swear to God there are a lot of Colombians driving around in Bentleys solely because of this country club. The Fishygills went all out and were partying like it was 1999, which ired their cranky elderly neighbors, who called the police for the noise. They turned down the music, waited til the police left, and then turned it back up. The police returned. Mr. Carl Fishygill, a not as quite as hip as he thinks he is 30-something with a trust fund, tried to charm the tight blue pants off of a similarly aged, African American female officer who was short on patience that night and not amused by his lame attempts at reasoning with her in his embarrassing, Caucasian version of Ebonics. I imagine he said something along the lines of "Come on girlfriend, you needs to just let us get our party on in the crib here. You want a gin and juice or somethin' baby?" Well, naturally this offended the officer who got really mad when he tried to touch her arm and responded with a "NO YOU JUST DITIN TOUCH MY ARM, RICH WHITE MAN!" This act gave the officer a valid reason to claim she felt threatened so she could arrest Mr. Fishygill and take him into custody. This is where the story just gets stupid.

Other party guests present at the scene report hearing the other officer, a male of undisclosed race, say "These rich white people think they can just do whatever they want, we need to teach them a lesson." Now there could be some merit to the story because I know we employees do think and say similar, if not exact, things every day, but we have enough sense not to say them TO the residents. I cant believe that an officer of the law would be that dumb, but you never know. It annoys me so much that whenever rich white people get into trouble doing some idiotic crap they shouldn't be doing that they always then throw out the reverse discrimination card, saying that all those not rich and/ or white are just jealous and have it out for them.

Lets just get one thing straight right now rich, white people. We don't hate you because you are wealthy and privileged and have nicer things we do and don't have to work. We hate you because you are arrogant, self centered, ignorant, wasteful morons with a disgusting sense of entitlement and a complete lack of respect for your fellow human beings. In other words, we don't hate you for your BMWs. We hate you because you are assholes. That said, Mr. Fishygill rang in the New Year in a holding cell, where I'm sure he quickly gave up his pathetic Snoop Dogg imitation.

Next we have my favorite story from the first hours of 2006. What a way start the New Year. Mr. Jack Hornberg and his girlfriend Sadie Puttanesca are pretty new in their relationship. They are still in that stage where things are fresh and exciting and they have sex constantly. Jack Hornberg has lived in Wide Lawns for a few years, since his parents bought him the home and paid the club dues for him. Jack is in his early 30s and has been trying to pass the Florida Bar exam for a few years now. He met Sadie on Jdate, although she is actually half Italian. She went on Jdate, an online Jewish dating service, because she heard that Jewish men were all rich. Jack agreed to date her because she was hot and had big boobs and he thought Italian girls were all good cooks. All seems to be going well in their relationship.

Last Saturday night, Sadie and Jack were speeding home, both probably too drunk to be driving, in Jack's Escalade. Once they entered Wide Lawns and headed back to Jack's house, one of them got the brilliant idea to really kick things up a notch in the booty department, by having sex in a moving vehicle. This is a move that can get you a quick Darwin Award here, which Jack and Sadie nearly did, so please don't try this genius idea in your own car. They both stripped down until they were stark naked (another note here, if you want to do it in the car, moving or not, leave as much of your clothing on as possible, okay?). Sadie jumped on top of Jack facing him, as he continued to drive. They got so excited that when Jack came to the end of Wide Lawns Blvd, he did not turn, as he should have, onto Wide Lawns Circle, and drove straight through the dead end and into Wide Lawns Lake, which is huge, cold, filled with weeds, alligators, duck crap and golf balls. It is no warm, clear spring. The Escalade quickly began to fill with water and Sadie and Jack could not get themselves untangled from one another. Luckily our security guards had a vehicle parked at the edge of the Circle watching out for New Years Eve drunk drivers. The guard called for back up and dove into the water, breaking out the trucks windows. Another guard dove in too, and together they pulled the naked, shivering and deeply mortified couple from the soggy vehicle and took them home, where they probably sobered up very fast. The next day the SUV had to be dredged out of the bottom of the lake.

This afternoon, I am pleased to tell you that Sadie and Jack repaid the heroes who saved their lives by sheepishly treating the entire guard staff to deli platters from the local grocery store.

And that, my friends, is how Wide Lawns welcomed 2006. If this New Years was any indication of the year to come, I think we will be in for some great future posts.
New Years 2006 - The Wheelchair Dogsled
February 27, 2015

Well Happy New Year everyone. After a nice extra long 3 1/2 day weekend I arrive to another good divorce story.

A few years ago the Flybys were just like any other normal Wide Lawns couple. They were in their 40s, happy, active, athletic, rich and white. They lived together in an opulent home in Caledonia; a home set up on a little man made hill with a wide, circular driveway and immaculate landscaping. Pinky Flyby, the wife, kept horses just outside of Wide Lawns, and her husband Herbie loved to play tennis. All was perfect for a long time until poor Pinky suffered a terrible accident, a la Christopher Reeve, and took a nasty fall from her horse. Pinky became a quadriplegic. Because this was obviously a horrible tragedy, Herbie Flyby had to at least act like a decent human being and take care of his wife for a few months. He then became bored and wished to get back to his old life of tennis, jogging and martinis at the clubhouse, so when he thought enough time had passed that people wouldn't think he was a complete jerk and instead just kind of a jerk, he hired a nurse to care for Pinky so he could resume his lifestyle. The problem is that he hired a very hot, young nurse to care for her.

It took more than a year, (so I guess we are supposed to give Herbie some credit for sticking it out for two years, but it is my personal opinion that he only held out that long so that people wouldn't be quite as horrified as they were already), for Herbie to pack it up and run off with the nurse. Sadly though, like all the Wide Lawns exes, he didn't run very far. He and the nurse now reside in Islington, which is the Wide Lawn equivalent of exile. Poor Pinky Flyby, without the use of her arms or legs was left all alone to fend for herself in the big opulent house, on the now regrettable man made hill, with the very regrettable elaborate winding staircases, both of which are very precarious to navigate in a wheelchair. Herbie Flyby allowed Pinky to stay in the house, as long as they could sell it as part of the divorce settlement and split the profits. Pinky has no use for homes on hills or winding staircases now and needs a smaller abode, however, she does need the money and we can hope that she is getting a massive settlement and that the split is more in her favor than his, but I don't know the details on that. So the house in Caledonia Park is for sale and Pinky has a new nurse, and it seems, a new job as well. She is boarding dogs in the massive home they have up for sale.

Herbie called the HOA to issue a complaint about his immobile ex wife, saying that she is running a business out of her home, something that is strictly forbidden in Wide Lawns. We couldn't imagine what kind of business a quadriplegic could be running, and that's when he told us that Pinky, who had always loved animals, was using all that space in the house to keep dogs for people who were traveling. Instantly my mind generated an unusual image. How does she feed them all, I wondered. So we asked. The nurse feeds them. So then how does she walk them, we inquired, thinking that Herbie had to be the meanest man alive, first to run off with his paralyzed wife's nurse, and next to start trouble and file complaints against the poor soul who is just trying to make a living and entertain herself with some canine companionship since she no longer has a spouse and her friends have all forgotten her in favor of people who could actually go to the bathroom without help. Sure she had a a lot of friends when the accident was fresh. They couldn't all abandon her right away because that would look disgusting and uncharitable, but it was just so uncomfortable for them all to see poor Pinky that way. It was hard to look at her and they just didn't know what to say. So eventually, when a reasonable amount of time had passed so that they didn't all look selfish and politically incorrect abandoning their crippled friend, they went ahead and abandoned her and met up with Herbie for martinis at the clubhouse. You can't blame Pinky for wanting the unconditional positive regard of dogs, even if, if Herbie is to be believed, she has at least 20 of them running around her mansion at any given time.

Herbie Flyby went on to explain to us that Pinky is even walking the dogs, or wheeling them might be a more apt term. Since Pinky does not have use of her hands, I couldn't exactly picture this either, but apparently the nurse attaches the leashes of several dogs to Pinky's chair and the dogs then pull the chair all up and down Wide Lawns with the nurse in tow to make sure nothing goes terribly awry, as it definitely could with five or six dogs of various breeds and sizes pulling a quadriplegic around a million dollar country club subdivision. The whole thing sounds like a twisted, snowless version of a dogsled, and as bizarre as this truly must be, it is my belief that if a person has to be a quadriplegic, and then has the even worse luck to have her husband run three streets away with her very own nurse, then daggonit, if she wants a wheelchair dogsled, she should damn straight be allowed to have one and an ice cream cone too.

Herbie Flyby disagrees with me. Why you ask? It would be simple enough to say that he is the meanest and most selfish person in Basura, but that would not explain his motivation. He doesn't want Pinky messing up the house with slobbering, chewing, growling, Frito smelling dogs because then its resale value would decline or no one would want the house and it would be difficult to sell, and he wants it sold fast.

Mr. Flyby has asked us, the HOA, to intervene on his behalf and to stop Pinky's dog sitting service. I dont think I will do a damned thing. Too bad I don't have any dogs to board, because Pinky Flyby would be the first person I would call.