Squeaky Bed Sandy

I ran into my neighbor, Squeaky Bed Sandy, as I was returning from a bike ride, this afternoon.

"How are you liking it here in California?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm loving it so far. I feel like I'm living in a beach house." I replied.

"Yeah, when I go on vacation I say 'It's the same sun! It's the same sun!'" said Squeaky. And then she winked at me. I was momentarily taken aback. But as our conversation went on Squeaky winked at me several times, with both eyes, as if she was trying to impart some weird secret, just between her and me. The secret, not well kept, was that she was crazy as a junebug.

Squeaky was accompanied by Darren, a city maintenance worker. Darren had a sort of Bobby Darin, James Dean hairstyle up front. Slicked back, with a wave on top. He had black, black hair. He would have wowed them in 1958. Coming around from the back of Darren's head, and hanging down his shoulder, though, was a thick ponytail, held together with blue and black scrunchies. His scrunchies matched his maintenance workers dark blue uniform shirt. It's possible that Darren had some Native American blood somewhere in his background. Every time Darren laughed, or even made a talking point, he would open his mouth wide and stick out his tongue, as if he was going to laugh but then thought better of it. It looked like he was constantly receiving communion. I kept expecting something horrible to come crawling up Darren's throat and out his pie hole to eat up Squeaky and me.

Squeaky was quite the Chatty Kathy and she admitted it several times. She talked about Martinez:

"I have roots in Martinez. I hate seeing what's happened to it. The homeless and the bums and the drugs. I'm so tired of seeing that..." She searched for a word, "...element. The old businesses and the new businesses. It's all politics, man, it's all politics!" *wink*

She talked about her ex-boyfriend:

"It took me nine months to break up with him. We were together for six years. He didn't have a job. He just laid on the couch, collecting disability and having surgeries. He saw a working girl and thought he could take advantage. ka-ching ka-ching kaching!" *wink* "Yeah, I'll buy your toothpaste, and your toothbrush, and your underwear, and I'm not even worth a basket of fruit!" *wink*

A basket of fruit?

"When we broke up he moved into an apartment down the street. So he could control me. ka-ching ka-ching kaching! He saw a working girl and thought he could take advantage!" *wink*

Sandy told me the story that I had already heard from Mike, on the top floor. How her boyfriend had broken in the storeroom door.

"His personality was made public. Everyone saw how he really was. Nobody could tell because he was charming! I could see in his eyes that he wanted to hit me. I have family in Martinez. Grandparents and cousins and brothers. If he had hit me he would have been beaten up 300 times!" *wink*

I heard the sound of a cat yowling from Squeaky's apartment. "Oh, that's my cat, Ozzy (Naturally, the cat's name was Ozzy). He's not Siamese but he's very vocal. He's a lot like me. Emotional? Yesterday, he got sand all over the place. I was upset with him about it and today he's been extra careful not to get sand on the floor."

Squeaky apologized again for being so talkative and I told her I didn't think that at all.

"Bye!" she said. "Thank you!" *wink*

"You're welcome." I replied. Then I ran for my computer as fast as my little slug feet would carry me.
  • Current Mood: wink
There's something about California, California neighbors, and the inappropriate overshare.

When I lived in Oakland, within 5 minutes of meeting me, the creepy unsexy woman next door felt compelled to tell me about her fibermyalgia, need for deep tissue massages, and how she was a very sexual person. Then, when her California nutsy met my Midwestern niceness, I somehow let her use my phone. For the next 45 minutes. While she worked out some "issues" with someone she loved dearly but had to have institutionalized. Or taken away by the cops. Or something.

Later, her boyfriend/home health care provider wanted to borrow my tire iron. I was convinced it was going to become Evidence.

After he left, the new home health care provider cornered me during dinner and told me and the wasband all about his issues with the ex and her crazed allegations of domestic abuse.

Apparently some people misinterpret the look of stunned horror as Active Listening.