We Are Bad And We Love It

I DO NOT MESS AROUND. If you're getting on my last available nerve, I will do something about it unless the cops are in my neighborhood. And if they're cute cops, I got that covered.

I'm a Scorpio. If you know your horoscope, you know many things about us. We're the sex sign of the Zodiac and if you happen to cross us, run. I give you two times to fuck me over and by the third, you're history. Scorpios are the most loyal sign of the Zodiac. We will do anything for you and you will never find a more consistent friend than a Scorpio, unless you're a total douchebag and I don't have time to list all those people right now because I have to do my Xmas shopping.

Back in New York City in the late 80's, the top of our 65 unit apartment building was finished with redwood decking, potted plants, benches and other outdoor accoutrements. Even though the building was only 6 stories, the roof had a lovely view of the East River. The mayor's residence, Gracie Mansion, sat off to the right almost on top of the boardwalk that ran from the East 90's straight down to the East 60's. Giant oil tankers drifted up and down the East River, tugboats nudging them gently so they wouldn't careen into the oncoming water lanes. So needless to say, this rooftop garden quickly became our building hangout. We would take our books and magazines and slip into bathing suits and soak up the sun and cruise the hot gay guys since the heteros weren't that cute in our building. You know, like in real life.

Then one of the tenants, who happened to work at a law office but WAS NOT A LAWYER, decided that the rooftop garden was just begging for drug addicts and thieves to climb up one of the fire escapes, cross over the 2 feet of barbed wire, break down the door that locked from the inside, and murder and pillage at will. She called the management company and within weeks the roof was closed.

We all bitched for weeks so finally I came up with a plan. I enlisted my friend Betty and we decided to scare the shit out of the old lady. She wasn't really old, maybe 36 or something but we called her that because she was acting like an old lady. I donned a pair of rubber gloves, and on a legal pad of paper I had purchased WITH GLOVES ON, took a pen and wrote her a threat with my left hand, because I am right-handed. Seriously, I could work for the C.I.A. The note said she was to cease and desist or she would cease to exist. Then I signed it Your Neighbors. Then, again with gloves, we folded the note, put it in a newly purchased envelope, bought with the same gloves, and in the middle of the night, slipped it under her door. I don't remember if we licked the envelope. I don't remember when DNA testing started either, so let's hope I just folded in the flap and left it at that. I hope my next post isn't from prison.

Days went by and after a week, the roof reopened. Then another week went by and we all had a flyer slipped under our doors from the management company. It said that NYPD was checking into any threats to anyBODY and that this was something they were taking very seriously. Of course Betty and I went around the building saying, "Oh my GOD, what are they talking about, who could have DONE this?"

When I first moved to LA, there was some derelict who lived in our building who had a car that was about 147 years old. Every morning at 6 a.m. he would turn the key in the ignition and rev the engine of that piece of crap for what seemed like hours, but was probably only 5 minutes. Being the Queen of Insomnia, it only took the engine turning over one time to blast me awake. After two weeks of this, I decided it was time to once again become the vigilante I was clearly meant to be. I wrote him a note that said, "Stop gunning your engine at the crack of dawn or we'll make sure your car will never start again." Then I signed it Your Neighbors. The next morning I heard him come out of the back door and instead of going straight for his car door, knew he had stopped to pick up the envelope under the windshield wiper and read it. He then got into his car, turned the engine over, sputtered out the back and chugged down the street. When he got to the stoplight at the end of our street, THEN he gunned the engine, which I'm sure thrilled all the apartment dwellers down on that end. He moved out less than 6 months later.

Don't EVER fuck with a Scorpio. E V E R. We are the Don Corleones of the Zodiac. We have learned that when a friend fucks with us once, they will fuck with us forever. Ask all my Scorpio friends. Right Bee?

Your neighbors.