faboo mama

That’s what we call our neighbor. Neighbor is actually a loose term here. We live in the middle of the block. He lives on the street perpendicular to ours. We can hear him yelling. A lot.

When I first saw the house Nov. 15th, 2006 I mentioned to my agent how quiet this neighborhood was. When we back to see the house the next day with my husband, I wondered, “Where’d all these dogs come from?” It wasn’t until March of this year that we first heard The Angriest Man Alive. I was working in the backyard and heard screaming. I thought it was from two doors down. It was so bad, I called the police. When I told them the address, they cop said, “Oh, you’ll get used to that.” Huh?

After awhile, The Angriest Man Alive became a source of amusement. Probably because we didn’t live next to him. See, in our old place there was this girl named Kelly–if I knew her last name, I’d post it, I hate that girl–we called her Drama Queen. With her, she was on the phone from 1am to 3am. She’d come home drunk and crying. She was loud too. So, say it was 2pm and she was on the phone. If you went out to the street, you could hear every word she was saying up to 150ft. away. That’s loud. Her conversations went like this:

Mom…I need money.
Fuck you mom. I know you have some, so give it to me.
I need to get my medication. I need $50.
FUCK mom! I’m only asking for $100.
[cry sob]But![whine] You…!
I HATE YOU MOM! I can’t believe you won’t just give me $200.
Yes, I know you pay my rent.
I’m going to be 26 years old, I don’t need this shit and I don’t need you.
Why won’t you just give me $400?
Fuck you, mom. Fuck you!!! You get plastic surgery, you’re in fucking France right now!
My birthday is next month, all I’m asking is for $800!
I HATE YOU. You’re a fucking bitch, mom. I’m going to call dad. He’ll give me $1200.
What? Okay, fine. How am I supposed to put gas in my car, pay my credit card bills AND go out to eat?
Okay, fine…just send me $2000. I’ll be back in NY* next week, can you buy me a plane ticket?

*Note: Psycho Kelly is from New York City and not Los Angeles, so we’ll have no dogging on LA women in this respect. Thank you.

There was the time, her car got towed from not paying her tickets. Somehow, she managed to get it in her head that if she just paid one of the $40 tickets that they’ll give her hear car back. She spent a good 6 hours calling almost everyone she knows to give them a sob story, but it seemed they all agreed that she should probably just pay the tickets and impound fees. And no, they weren’t going to loan her money.

She bought a new car instead.

Kelly aka Drama Queen, lived in the building next to ours for almost 4 years. I almost had to kick her ass when I was 7 months pregnant with Ilia. I was ret to go. I got my pants on, tennis shoes and was almost out the door before Adrian stopped me. When we found out she was moving, we were paralyzed. What if we moved and wound up near her? That’s the sort of luck we’d have. When we found this house, one of the first questions I asked was, “Did an insane and loud white chick move into the area recently? No? I’ll make an offer.”

But no one warned us about The Angriest Man Alive.

So, this guy is better than everyone he talks to. I’ve seen him and he’s probably about 45. He lives with his dad in the house he grew up in. The neighbor next to him, let’s call him Julio, lives with his mom and his sister in the house he grew up in. They went to elementary school together. This is by way of explaining the dynamic between these two.

But first, the first overheard conversation–this is when I called the cops,–was when TAMA went at it with his old lady:

TAMA: Where the fuck do you think you’re going?
OL: I’ll be back this weekend.
TAMA: You’re going back to that dick aren’t you?
OL: You’re not my fucking father!!!
TAMA: Get the fuck out of my house you fucking whore.
OL: Fuck you fucker
TAMA: You don’t talk to me like that in my fucking house. I heard you were with him last week.
OL: Whatever asshole. Just give me $10.
TAMA: No, I’m not giving you money so you can go fuck some other guy!
OL: I’m out of here. What? You’re gonna hit me like you hit your dad? Fuck you, maricon (this is an offensive term).
TAMA: You’re gonna fuck that guy again, aren’t you?
OL: I didn’t fuck him that time. We just hung out.

See? Drama…but it’s far away drama that doesn’t keep me up at night or wake my kids at naptime. My clients don’t hear TAMA screaming when I’m on the phone with them. (Speaking of which, I should tell you about April the Philadelphian Slut one day–I’m sure she’s fucking her way through Hollywood as we speak.) Dad, by the way, is usually sitting out on the front porch. His old lady, disappears for a few weeks at a time, then she comes back. Everything is fine for a couple of weeks, then it’s two weeks of drama. With Julio, it’s different.

Julio walked into the liquor store when I was buying smokes and milk, talking to one of the local drunks.

Julio: Man, last night TAMA pulled a knife on me.
LD: What happened?
Julio: He wanted me to go get his old lady, but her other man is meaner than TAMA.
LD: He needs to stop drinking.
Julio: Yeah. I’m fed up with it. This is like the 8th time in the last 2 years he’s pulled a knife on me. Before that, the last time he pulled a weapon on be was like back in 9th grade! The next time, I’m going to tell him I don’t like it.

Hijole!

Sometimes, we hear TAMA, just ranting and we have no idea if he’s talking Julio, OL or dad. He says things like, “Get the fuck out of here. You’re not worth shit. If you were a dog, I wouldn’t even look at you!” Halloween night, he was lit and railing with all those little kiddies walking by. Then got pissed no one was trick-or-treating at his house. Sweet!

But the oddest thing has happened. Since, Halloween night, we’ve heard nothing from TAMA or his old lady. Julio walks by, and actually seems happy. I didn’t see anyone move out and the place still looks lived in, though I haven’t see the dad in awhile. Now I’m wondering if they’ve taken a trip or if they’re all dead in the house and no one will call the cops until there’s a smell permeating the neighborhood.

The The Angriest Man Alive by faboo mama, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.