Anastasia and the Cuban

Anastasia and the Cuban
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Friday, January 30, 2015

The Art of the Dodge






I finally had to apply for a restraining order against the aging nutcase of an old lady that I've been dealing with.  

It got to be ridiculous, in that if I was seated with friends in a cafeteria, she'd come up within a foot of me in order to show that she was going to push herself on me, no matter what.

If I walked my dog and ran into her, she would make a bee-line for me and my dog, before I could retract the leash, trying to set up some type of scenario where she could claim I abused her.  

Professional Victim...much?

I've never met a professional victim in so much denial!  She really takes the cake, not to mention the table, place settings and tablecloth too.

The crazy old bitch even approached the man that I paid to serve her for the civil case; whining and crying that he had served her. 
"Why did you serve me," she asked him.
"I was paid to and I needed the money," he told her.
"That wasn't nice.  If you ever need money, why don't you come to me?"

She acts as if she is immune from common inconveniences that all of us others deal with when we break the laws.

Elder Abuse



Now, she has a boyfriend that I've heard she's bilking.  As I'm told, this poor old fool who lives close to her has suffered a heart attack and is in some rehab facility, recovering.  The scandalous old shrew has incorporated one of the two-bit losers whom she pays to hang out with her.  She is using him to help her bilk this man of his retirement money.  

So far, she has only robbed the man's checking account of around $2,000, I'm told.  And while I know this is felonious, I also realize that even if I tried to help the old geezer (a man who has made the horrible decision to take her on as a girlfriend), that I wouldn't likely be taken seriously.  Especially since I'm suing her for slander and libel and have applied for a restraining order against her. 

But none-the-less, I find it remarkably sad that this piece of shit woman and her accomplice have no shame about swindling this man out of his money.  Even more disgusting than that, is the fact that her accomplice is driving the man's car all over, as if it is his own.  And then, she has the nerve to call the old man her boyfriend.

I'm praying the man's family looks into things and figures out that money removed from his banking account while he was in the hospital probably wasn't removed with permissions.  I believe that anything over $500 is likely a felony.

Peace and Doves



As for me, the hope of future peace from this tragically misguided woman, is heavenly.  It's sad that there are these types of individuals in the world.  But elder abuse is not a  new phenomenon.  

It's just amazing that people her age don't realize that they can be charged with felonies for committing financial abuse against fellow senior citizens.

I guess this message is to remind anyone who has an elderly parent, living in or out of a senior community, to check up on them and make sure that their "friends" or "relations" aren't using them for financial exploitation.

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

An idiot born every day




Gustavo and I have met most of our neighbors after moving here last summer.

And we've been turned off by a few too.  Of course, every garden has its weeds and ours has more than a few.

Sometimes, Ihave thoughts about writing another novel about the hilarious characters here.


Evil Eva

One person, in particular, stands out for many of us living in this neighborhood.  We call her "Evil", which is both a play on her name and an accurate description of how she represents herself in our community.

She has stolen more goods from the houses of people in this community that she quickly befriends, than Simon Templar.  Anything!  From the meat cooking on your stove top to expensive facial creams, off the counters of our bathrooms. And even money and heirloom jewelry too.  Few people have been spared from Evil's kleptomaniac tendencies.

She turned out to be a 78-year old thief and scammer. Which completely blew our minds!

We are the lucky ones.  From us, she only kiped a pair of cheap scissors.  But we are vigilant about who has access to various rooms in our house.  Also, we were warned about her thievery.

From my neighbor and dear friend, Babi, she snatched many ore things.  Its too much to list, but here's a sampling:
  1. A $260 container of Sephora regenerating cream
  2. Her mother's diamond engagement ring
  3. Endless quarters from her change drawer
  4. Expensive designer brands of clothing
  5. Assorted packaged meats from her freezer
  6. Bottles of liquor
  7. Hypertensive medication and Prozac
  8. Its just a sampling of what was taken from this woman's house; sometimes even as she napped.  

In fact, one neighbor tells a story about witnessing Evil Eva entering Babi's house after Babi left; and leaving with armloads of frozen meats. 

Babi tells another story of making a Hungarian dish loaded with meat, taking a nap and awakening to the pot missing nearly every piece of meat she had cut up and cooked.



We often laugh, thinking about this crazy 78-year old woman standing over the pot and gulping down every juicy piece of meat from that dish, licking her greedy fingers and watching the bedroom door for any signs of Babi awakening.  Before she slides out of the door, belly full and one of Babi's bowls tucked under her arm, filled with meat.


At first we liked Evil Eva.  Gustavo and I felt protective towards her.  It didn't seem possible that a "sweet little old lad" could be so flawed.  We wrote off the warnings about her  as mean-spirited gossip.  

But after I heard her tell my husband to "fuck off" and then having her turn around to say "and fuck you too" to me, in my own house, I guided her to the door.  I was still willing to forgive her at that point, but she went on to immediately libel me and spread vicious lies about us, even that day.

That's  when I learned her other sides:
  1. community gossip, 
  2. local slanderer, 
  3. professional victim 
  4. traviesa
And most likely another victim of a rotten childhood, growing up back in Hungary.  Because, although she claims (falsely, I'm convinced) that she was a freedom fighter in the Hungarian Revolution of 1956, nothing about her character leads me to believe she has that much loyalty to anything.

For one thing, she has never returned to the country she claims to have fought for.  Not since 1956?  And she never felt a need to bring her offspring back to her home country and introduce them to her culture?  That's odd behavior for one who supposedly fought for her country as a freedom fighter.


For another, she is an experienced liar, about nearly everything.  It's almost always stories that have an elementary bit of truth, in that they may have happened; but nearly every detail about the event has been altered to make Evil Eva appear victimized.

But we also realized she suffers from dementia, which neither of us had much experience with.  So we were not familiar with the symptoms.

Dementia is best described as a series of symptoms that impair thinking, communication ability and memory.

One symptom in particular that dementia affects involves reasoning.  After observing this woman and her behavior, I gained a greater understanding of some of those symptoms - namely, irrational and ridiculous persistent rage.  Not to mention her stubborn inability to accept reality.

This woman started out as a lovely, elderly Hungarian lady who clutched onto us a little too quickly.  She called us her "daughter and son-in-law"; even though later I learned she calls Mexicans and Mexican-Americans "the Jalepeno people".

It became a daily joke with my neighbors approaching us and saying, " I saw Evil today...".  

And then we'd hear whatever nasty or libelous thing she was saying about us that day.  Followed by Evil walking her dog and coming straight up to me, shoving her flat chest into mine and screaming, "Hit me!  Hit me!" to try to initiate a fight.

I swear!   I can't even make this shit up.  She's really that nuts!

Sometimes I wanted to hit her.  In fact, I dreamed of it.  Because, at one point she even filed a false police report with a fake witness against me.  It ended up in the violent crimes division, where the inspector specialist looked at her record of filing at least ten other charges of abuse, by ten different people, a few with exactly the same story as mine and realized this lady was using the police to fight her personal battles.

That's when I filed a civil law suit against her.  And that's when two new players entered the scene.  Two local losers who she pays off to help her in her obsessive-compulsive campaign of harassment.

One is an insecure black an from Pittsburgh who is known for having a miniature Johnson and a excessive need to boast about nothing.  

He calls himself the "Mayor" around here and claims the little old ladies he scams out of chump change adore him.  

To me, his veiled attempts to play psychological games comes off more as the efforts of some country bumpkin, from Bumfuck Nowhere, than the accomplished street hustler that I think he wants me to believe he is.  

I keep thinking about that song, "...don't want no short docked man".

The other prides himself in having all sorts of knowledge about things he obviously knows nothing about.  He is one of those laughable sorts who, I'm told, has his "degrees" framed and hung all over his apartment.  That's right!  Not his office, because he doesn't have one with all that knowledge, but his apartment!  

That alone, made me howl.

He's an ex-con with some prison schooling, but limited social comprehension.  He snaps like a rubber band at times, bucks up and tries to act tough even raising his voice, but backing down like a bitch when anyone really challenges him.  As my husband and a few others have seen when they called  his bluff.  He calls him self her "lawyer".  And he is such an idiot, that I'm glad she gets her advice from him, instead of someone competent.  

It's made my case easier to win.

And while few of us like the idea of two street hustler style creeps exploiting a demented little old lady, we each excuse it, because after all...

...it's Evil.

Monday, January 26, 2015

Ball in Hand : A poem about controlling your future

My dear friend and I were discussing plastic surgery junkies. Neither of us care about what others do to seek happiness....

....until they no longer do.

The poem is called "Ball in Hand", because ball in hand is moving the cue ball during a pool game, after your opponent fouls, to a position that sets up a shot.  This move generally improves your odds of winning the game; much the same as some feel plastic surgery improves their odds at the game of life

BALL IN HAND

Surgery junkies...
narcissist's fuzzy, warm
blanket.
Empty shattered hearts,
merciless veiled mirrors;
mind trickery and rhinestone bangle.

Pursuit of perfection
mid imperfect worlds.
Snip snip there
Tuck tuck there.
Neon white teeth.
Shiny yellow hair.

Lift that brow...shape that chin.
Wistful nostalgia...liberty YA!
Be gone bad memories
timeworn leathery skin.
Baptize the new
stretched tighter than sin.

Rejoice! Rejoice!
The human is born
feted by the media, public...
Worn eyes of us old.
We...the walnut-lined,
sagged, unheeded heals.

We...whose faces age
slumping downward;
unpinned, suture-free and loose
While your taut beauty
knocks us off our feet.
Only to be forgotten...

Just moments after you pass.













Sunday, December 15, 2013

Renewing the Aging Life in Vegas

For those of you who have followed my posts, you probably noticed I've been away for some time.

Vegas Baby!

First of all, we moved and were adapting to our new state and city. 

We moved in the early fall and have been learning the ins and outs of our new place. 

We absolutely love Las Vegas and feel we made the right choice for a place to retire.

Dicey or Not

I've learned that it's not all about gambling here. 


This city has an old-west-meets-cosmopolitan-city feel to it. 

The people are genuinely nice and its so nice to enter buildings without having to go through metal detectors, everywhere. 

I feel like I'm living in America once again, instead of existing in some cold war environment.

I think what shocks us the most is the amount of undeveloped land surrounding the city. 

We can't get over the sizes of the properties that homes sit on, either.  It's been ages since the two of us have seen lots this huge.  Lots big enough to breed horses on!  That still amazes me as we go for our bike rides past some of the housing areas in Las Vegas.

And the mountain ranges surrounding the city are a lovely change after seeing cement and bums for the past few years. 


Ever the "Author"
 
Second, I have been working up the concept on a new nonfiction book I'm going to write.  I know, I know...everyone has a book they are writing these days.

But, I do think this one is different and it may reflect a reality about America today that isn't generally acknowledged. 

It involves perceptions...mine of course...and it is taking up a bit of time. 

I won't go into details right now, but it suffices to say that a certain person we know who suffers from a severe case of narcissistic personality disorder has inspired the book after we saw several tantrums from this person that reminded me of how narcissism and autism might be confused.


Peace and Quiet

Third, we've been enjoying some peace of mind and quiet appreciation of one another.  

Las Vegas allows a couple to do that, because the lifestyle is a peaceful one.  I have commented before that I no longer hear the sudden sound of sirens breaking my peaceful sleep.  I don't hear drunken bums without any sense of volume control, either.  As a matter of fact, I don't hear any number of negative things that I encountered daily in Los Angeles. 

One of them is the smell of pot wafting through the air.  Where we live now, I don't have pot smoke seeping in under my door and annoying me.  I don't smell it as I walk down city streets.  In fact, I rarely smell pot at all, unless I pass someone still reeking of it. 

And I don't miss it, since it smells like the worst body odor created!

I don't miss the uric scent of alcoholics pissing in the streets, either.  That disgusting smell that imbeds itself in the cracks and crevices of the pavement and can't even wash out, after enough people re-christening the sidewalks and building corners.

It's been like a honeymoon here for Gustavo and I.  

This chart on North Las Vegas may explain why. If the Quality of Life index reflects reality, it seems things are pretty good for Vegas in general; since I've been told that North Las Vegas is not the best part of Vegas to live in.



We've learned how to enjoy Las Vegas for more than gambling and the shows.  There are so many events that go on here that compliment the area as well.  And we've combined them with our love for one another to make this move an excellent choice for us.

All in all, I really don't miss Los Angeles.  Either does Gustavo from what he says.  We both are happy to have made the move here.  We feel as if we have greater opportunity here for many things. 

We feel as if we can enjoy a certain level of civil rights here that no longer exist in Los Angeles...especially, since Los Angeles appears to have become some sort of police state, where every office building has metal detectors, simply to enter.


Old Feelings


I like the old feel of Vegas. 

I love the modern feel as well.  And the political environment here has just enough liberal attitudes and enough conservative views to keep things balanced. 

California's anything goes feel didn't suit me.  I don't need controls from conservatives or liberals and California's potheads and trendy types bored me, equally.

For me, I'd like to retire into a feeling of being respected and
treated as if I matter.  I didn't feel that in Los Angeles.  I feel it caters mostly to youthful types.  Or maybe I didn't care enough to explore it and find the shows set up for mature types, like me; or clubs promoting people over 40. 

To me, California gave me a feeling as if people don't exist if they are over 40.  I  feel respected in Vegas.  I feel as if I'm part of the community.

It's nice to be able to go to an evening event where other people my age attend, without feeling I haven't updated my plastic surgery to fit in. 

I don't want to apologize for putting on a few pounds in my fifties.  I don't want to be a victim of breast enhancements of butt lifts or eyelift surgeries.  I think I look just fine for my age.

I don't want to stomach silly old men who need eye candy dangling from their arms; because they don't have the confidence to deal with people from their own age group.  Frankly, the idea of watching some young gal seek an old fart doesn't appeal to me.  It seems like she's giving up her best years for something disgusting.  And it seems like the old fart is simply addled.

I don't want cougars to tell me that paying some young man's life is acceptable if I have enough money to do so.  I don't like being used by anyone...not for sex, not for company, not for style or trendsetting.  Even when I dated younger men I expected them to  hold their own and fork over money for dates.  I've never been a proponent of being labeled a trendy name for my dating tendencies.  And for the record, when I dated a younger man, I was in it for the long haul, not to prove I was desirable.  I already knew that!



I love that Gustavo and I are around the same age and have so many memories together.  We watch old shows and know them.  We enjoy songs together.  We remember things we did as kids that kids later didn't do.

And maybe that's why we love Las Vegas.  We feel like we know it.  We feel good here, like we did as kids gathered around those old televisions.  We laugh at Alfred Hitchcock and remember Bonanza.  We even wake up sometimes to laugh at an old show that comes on at three a.m. called Highway Patrol.  We try to recognize buildings in the Streets of San Francisco and Los Angeles movies.

In other words, "life ain't so bad here."

 

Thursday, September 5, 2013

The Move...Goodbye L.A.

Happiness is a morning swim and a long bike ride.  And coffee staring at the beautiful mountain range





We have moved and it is soooo nice to be in suburbia again!  I now sleep through the night, once again.  Why?

Because there is peace in my existence, once again.

What is Heaven


At night I hear crickets, not winos.  In the morning,  I hear the soft sound thunder rumbling in the hills, not obnoxious bus voices announcing stops.

I have finally entered the best part of retirement.  Heaven!

To all of our kids that wished me a happy birthday....thank you.

Just moving away from L. A.has been the best present, ever!  I haven't been this content in years.

We can't wait for our family to visit us!   We have one of the kids with us and he's having ball.

I'll be posting photos soon