It's all Compton up in the RP.

So, here's a short one in attempt to get back into the swing of things.

So...OBVIOUSLY...it's summer in Rogers Park, which means that all the kiddies, and by kiddies I mean the stereotypical boiz in da hood the news likes to warn us about nightly, finally get to stretch their arms out and shake off the winter blues. Boys will be boys, and after a never ending winter, they're a little stir crazy.

What a better way to release tension and enjoy the summer air than with a peaceful bike ride, down a tree lined street, the breeze gently kissing your skin, the golden ember of a tranquil sun setting magnificently before your eyes.

That and emptying your clip into the the ass of that punk who owes your ass money or some shit that I can't even pretend to understand the dynamics of. I sincerely say I'm sure his reasons were real and totally justifiable in his own mind. But that's another blog for another time.

All I know is, I'm sitting here in my crib, chillin' with my new favorite drink, The Britney Spears Special, (wine and lemonade in a plastic tumbler with a curly straw,) and I hear the echoing sounds of a Saturday Night Special ring through out the courtyard.

Then the whole building gets all 227, hanging out of their windows, myself included, hoping to (not) see a body. Because there's nothing more shiteous than having to hose wash blood stains off of the side walk. That shit never comes out. It's terrible for property value, and attracts ants by the millions.

So, this kid, now that he's sufficiently finished his bike ride, and made his point be known that he was none to pleased with the young man down the block, ditches his bike and gets the fuck outta there before the yuppies can come swarming like ants to a blood stain and bees to honey.

So here's the bees; shootin' up some trick at dusk on a busy street is rude AND unprofessional. Do that shit in an alley, basement, a corn field, a foreclosed house, or some other place where it'll be a while before someone finds that shit. Not where swarms of people can see you, and more so, get hit by your bullets. If you think the cops are going to be all argy bargy about attempted murder of your peers on the street, just think how cranky they'll be if you should kill a tax payer. The Alderman needs that money to make our streets safer. He's doing such a BANG up job of it thus far.

Here's the honey; the whole building came together in unity to compare notes, stare at the cops, play the lambada with caution tape that marked the crime scene, and eye the discarded bike, laying all lonely like in the gateway.

That poor bike. Just a few moments before, it was enjoying a ride with it's owner. Ten minutes goes by, and an elderly man is thinking of ways to grab the thing for himself. I didn't ask why. I just said if it meant that much to him, I would look the other way. That bike was probably stolen three times before. So why not let it live out its life with an old man who'll probably sell it for scrap metal, or possibly use it for his own bike-by shooting?

All snark and shit aside, I'm really not in the mood to spend a summer worrying about getting shot up while I'm walking my pugs, or trolling the streets for parking. With the housing market the way it is, ain't no one going anywhere anytime soon. I'd pack my own heat, but I think it's illegal, and my aim is only good when I'm standing still.

Tis true! I have the paper thing with the outline of the dude on it, all shot up in the kill zone. Not bad for a first timer. But I was in Texas when I did it. Being a good shot is in the air, so you have no choice but to inhale the sweet stench of gun powder, aim, and pull that trigger.

Yup. Not too keen about a long, shoot'em up summer. It'll make me long for the days when I was so fucked up in the head I refused to leave the fucking house. I may have been crazy, but I wasn't worried about getting shot at while walking the dogs.

Until the next time...

Bootsy

The Joys of Snowmageddon

Snowmaggedon 2011 has done more than bring most of the country to a grinding halt. Not only has it shown that maybe Al Gore wasn’t making Pee Pants over the state of the environment just to stroke his own peen and make some sweet, crazy money on his scary as hell movie. But also it has shown that just because you may be knee deep in snow, doesn’t mean you’re knee deep in ass hats too.

So far, this blizzard has been the best thing to happen to my Lil’ Hood here since a few of the peeps who chill in the alley scored a box of perfectly good workout DVDs during an impromptu garbage pick last summer. People have just come together, no questions asked, and for no other reason than for the sake of doing it.

It makes all the cold little bees all warm and fuzzy in their frosty, bee-sicle hearts.

In the wake of the storm, here at my building, one dude began the coalition to shovel the courtyard. I think it started with just him, but it wasn’t before long that the courtyard was like Whoville, everyone all happy, shovels in hand, making merry as they did their digging thing. While I, The Grinch, was still in bed, trying to shake off the sleep hangover I had for only getting about three hours of shut eye. Staring at the purty snow out the window, and watching an all night DeGrassi marathon on TeenNick will do that to you.

I believe that is was The King of the Condo Snow Shovelers, who was responsible for building a kick ass igloo for the wee ones to chill out in. It's good for it to be there so the kiddies can keep busy while their parents attempt to rescue their cars from unbridled snow carnage. I wanted to get a pic of said igloo for you, but I was only lucky enough to admire it from afar. If I get too close, my Pug would be unstoppable to do his own kind of “chilling” out in it, and then I get one of those “shitty” letters taped to my door with a demand of funds for his $50 “dump.”

I’m getting my pun on. This amuses only me. I own it.

Besides, snow piles of any kind are like the flames and pee dogs are the moths. It’s clean, it’s pretty, and it beckons with all of its bright glory. Dogs just can’t help themselves. Just another reason why I’m a dog walking, alley dweller. But alas, another blog for another pee-tastic time.

Since I was late to the front courtyard party, and also inspired by the love, I attempted to join in the do gooding, dig out by trying to shovel the back porch so the stairs would once again look like stairs, and not a black diamond ski run, as seen here...

When I was finished with it, it was passable at best. However, I wasn’t woman enough to work my way up to the second and third floors. Not for not trying, but because other than tossing the snow over my shoulder and onto the alley below, I seriously had no fucking idea on where to put that “shit.” With my luck, I’d get one of those “shitty” notes stuck to my door about both dog and snow “dumping,” and that would’ve “bummed” me out.

Holysnowballs with these bad puns. I’m so sorry. No more Stella Artois and chocolate cherry booze candies for me. At least not until breakfast.

If there’s another round of snow, I’m setting my alarm, busting out The Barefoot Contessa recipe for blueberry muffins, and I’ll be out there, watching people shovel and build igloos while I serve up some noms. That’ll be my little contribution.

A side of honey butter with those muffins, of course.

Brrr bee!

Bootsy

The Leather Bar

So, let me ask you. If you see a chain wrapped around a few black bars of a back gate in an alley...

...let me get you a visual...

..do you think "SAFETY FIRST! This place is VERY CONCERNED with security and the well being of its residents!"

Or do you think "Awesome!! I knew we'd find that underground, back alley, sub-dom-leather, bar if we just looked hard enough! Now, what was the safety word? Assessment? Sounds good. First round's on me."

Sadly, our current property manager thinks it's the first one. She seems to think that it's ok to wrap a thin chain around a few bars in a decorative manner and call it repaired/secured. Maybe if it was just up there for a night or two, it would be ok. But (also) sadly, I'm thinking it's been about a month, and it's still there. *fist pump!*

It calls to Thugs and Thuglets alike with its "IT'S TOTALLY COOL TO BREAK IN HERE" Bat Signal. It dares them to rip off the first pair of bolt cutters they can find to steal the chain itself, if just for no other reason than to prove that the best security is the kind that doesn't make your gangway look like the entrance to a Rave.

Tomorrow is our condo association meeting. If I happen to see a Thug(let) I may ask him to take the chain off for me, so I can hand deliver it to our Property Manager with a festive Christmas bow, and then begin my rant of why she's full of fail. But that would be rude, and wouldn't get me much honey. Plus, she's fired. The Christmas Gift the condo association gave to us all is that she'll be gone in less than 25 days! Very Merry, indeed!

So I guess in the meantime, I'll just stand at the back gate in my best duds from Forever 21, blast some Pitbull, and charge a cover to the other owners here whenever they try and get into their home. Maybe I'll reinvest the money into getting a better chain? I like to give back that way!

*Update as of 12/10/10 The gate chain is gone! Now I'm left with 10 flats of Red Bull and 200 glow sticks. I guess I can save them for New Years, or maybe to rejoice the day that I get both published and paid for the same body of work. One can only dream.

*Update as of 12/29-ish: My key broke in the front gate lock AGAIN, and sadly I had no choice but to suck at the teet of our soon to be ousted Property Manager to get another one. Yes, she was courteous and timely. I am pleased to say I was pleasantly surprised about that fact.

What's making me tattle on her ass on here, is that I suggested putting a sign up on the front informing residents that the lock is busted, and I feel as if she wagged the "yer a dummy finger" at me. She pointed out to me that doing that is an invitation for low lives to freely enter our courtyard to raise hell and what have you. Perhaps she's right? Being so blatant with our busted ass door and it's ills isn't the wisest thing. But I was thinking that since it was damned near zero out, and the middle of the night, maybe residents would want the heads up that their attempts to get into their homes through the front would be in vain until the morning. Also should they want to get inside to their cozy, warm beds and plasmas, they best trudge to the back so they can try their luck with a working key there, or use the garbage bin to help them scale the fence for entry way liberation.

That's right! Only safety first for us! Tis true, some owners that live here have had to break into their own courtyard through the back because Property Management can't seem to get consistently working keys for the Rave Gate for everyone who lives here. But my suggestion to point out the obvious was a bad one. No Jesus Juice for her during my next time I throw a back alley rave! And double the cover charge in an attempt to get some of my assessments back!