howdy. people are still periodically popping in here. just a reminder -- my journal is now located here:http://mars-attacks.diaryland.com
later days, sluts.
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i just wanted to add some further information about the crazy note that was stuck on our door a few weeks back.
ok, first of all, let me start by reprinting the original note. during the weekend that i was in chicago, a crude note which was written on what appeared to be a piece of ripped up cardboard box was taped to our door. here is what it said:
Your dogs never stop barking. Shut them up or we will, Get it?
well, as i have previously explained [x], my dogs often stop barking. anyway, after that, my mom posted some notes around our fenceline and door which said the following:
To the coward who trespassed on my property and threatened my dogs:
I have reported you to the Metro police, and I am told that you not only broke the law by coming on my property uninvited, but you violated statutes with severe punishments by physically threatening my dogs.
If the least bit of harm comes to my dogs, my daughter, myself, or my property, I will pursue you to the full extent of the law, and I will see your rear end behind bars.
Unlike you, I have the guts to sign my name.
[address deleted to protect me from you internet psychos]
i think she did a pretty good job although, personally, i would have used some juicier language. of course, little children would end up seeing it, and then we'd get calls from angry parents. oh, and contrary to the statement in her note, she has not yet contacted the police. she has been waiting until she has enough evidence -- which she may now have, but i'm getting to that.
oh! ok, i should explain, for those of you who don't know me, that my house sits in a carved out corner of a property. the property that is next to/behind us is an apartment complex. it should also be noted that we've had many encounters with some real psychos that live over there. anyway, a lady that lives there and is a big fan of my dogs saw our note back to the anonymous asshole and called my mom to let her know that she thought she might know who had left us the note.
the lady, whom i will call mrs. schwarzenegger (the names have been changed to protect the innocent, yadda yadda), said that a resident of the apartments had caused a lot of trouble there and she'd seen him in the parking lot screaming and cursing at our sweet dogs. this man's name is brad nichols (that really is his name). today, she came by my house to pick up the note he'd left us so she could compare his handwriting to another one to which he'd actually signed his name.
when i came home tonight, there was a kinko's [x] bag at the door containing the original note to us from this shady nichols character, a note from mrs. schwarzenegger, and a copy of a note from slim shady. below is the note from mrs. schwartzenegger, who from here on out, i will refer to as mrs. s-- or judy s-- (and her husband as mr. s-- or richard s--) in the interest of my not having to spell out that word anymore (well, it's fucking annoying!).
Please look over the letter Brad sent to the board. His S's, T's and underlining of words are identical.
His name is Brad Nichols, Unit N-13 (N)
Property Owner is:
Robert C. Nichols, Jr.
If we can be of any further help, don't hesitate to call me. We have the original letter at Ghertner that Brad sent.
ok, and now for the note from this brad dude. consider yourself lucky that i'm typing it instead of scanning it -- you have no idea how hard it is to decipher this messy scrawl.
To the Management & Board of Directors of Hobbs House Condominiums
On Sunday, 4-7-2002, at approximately 6:20 AM, I was in the south end of the parking area, when I heard someone shouting. I turned and saw one Richard S-- yelling at me with his hand under his armpits, "clucking" at me, seemingly to infer that i am "chicken" and "afraid" of him.
This is to let the board know that neither I, nor my father, who owns this unit, nor my wife, will put up with any form of intimidation, of any type.
Mr. S-- needs to apologize immediately or I will be forced to take matters into my own hands. We refuse to be intimidated by anyone any time.
Brad C. Nichols
BRAD C. NICHOLS
he will be "forced"? by the voices in his head? i mean, this dude sounds SCARY. and what's this about he and his wife living in an apartment owned by his father? i am of the opinion that you should be financially stable prior to entering into certain situations -- SUCH AS MARRIAGE! i should probably also explain the two signatures. apparently, the voices in the head of "one" brad nichols tell him that a pen and sheet of paper in his hands is magically transformed into a word processor. in other words, he signed the letter, then printed his name in capital letters as if it had been typed and signed. coocoo!
wow! i can't believe i forgot! a few days ago, mom discovered two bb holes in our downstairs window. did i mention that this guy is fucking crazy?!
anyway, if anybody has had a similar situation or just has an extensive knowledge of tennessee law (hmmm... my dad and grandpa are lawyers -- my "legal counsel," if you will [which you probably won't] -- maybe i should ask them] and would like to tell me your story or offer any advice, please feel free to do so. post a comment or e-mail [email@example.com] me.
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well, i had a nice entry written, but my computer froze up and it got lost. you missed out on me talking about the matzo balls i'm making. sorry for your loss.
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last night was HORRIBLE. well, it really starts with early evening. sometime between six and seven my final painkiller started to wear off. we went to a show... at a house. greg locked my keys in the car -- with the radio on. luckily, james was able to get it unlocked in time for me to wait the rest of the show out laying in my back seat sobbing.
after some hysterics, my mom finally decided to give me a dose of her hydrocodone (the same thing i was taking, only in liquid form because her jaws are wired shut). not only did she give me too much, but i had neglected to eat all day. it was only minutes before the pain in my jaw (though not the bitch of a headache that i got from crying) began to subside. this made me happy. unfortunately, while laying down in greg's room for hours and missing out on the cookout going on downstairs, i got violently ill. it started with me being too weak to move, then progressed to the point where i was throwing up into a bag for hours.
i asked greg to sleep downstairs (poor thing -- kicked out of his own room by his vomiting girlfriend), and he complied. finally, it got to the point where i was hot and sweaty and felt that i might pass out. really i felt that i would die. i called my mom and she ordered me to come home. so i called greg (downstairs -- thank god for cell phones), and asked him to help me to the car and drive me home. he even put my shoes on me.
i let the wind blow on my face from the window to keep my head cool. i even remarked just before getting in the car that i thought i was done puking. wrong. i felt horrible for the short drive home, but i made it. that is, until the car turned into my driveway. i said something along the lines of, "i'm gonna throw up," grabbed my trash bag full of vomit (yummy!), and managed to puke on the side of the bag and all over my lap. yippee!
needless to say, i was horribly embarrassed. i did, however, feel oceans and oceans better after that. i took a shower, got into bed, then woke up this morning about as week as a newborn ... uh, lamb? i'm still pretty weak and unwilling to leave the bed (except, of course, for this little excursion to the computer). i hate my life.
anyway, many thanks to greg for taking care of me and not breaking up with me (I HOPE!) because i, too, vomit like all people.
well, it's back to bed for me. i'm in a lot of pain. if i have any friends who, unbeknownst to me, make a living selling prescription drugs, there's a girl in green hills who needs some more hydrocodone.
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haha. you wouldn't know it to look at me, but i can fuck some shit up. i just turned one of my mother's chairs into firewood. she's not going to be too happy about that. so move the fuck out of my way.
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