For Sale

Here's the question of the day:

Do you think it's possible to purchase an investment property and give a shit about the neighborhood where it resides?




I'm confident that this property will be snapped up by some suburban investor who will soon renovate the building and rent it out.

If past behaviors are anything to go on, the units won't be market rate.

That may or may not be a good thing.

The building next door to this one was beautifully renovated the renters are seemingly good neighbors.

The scuttlebutt is that some if not all of the units are subsidized.

In the scheme of things, who gives a fig if the units are subsidized as long as your neighbors are decent people.

Some would say that building is an anomaly.

Perhaps the owners or property managers exercised proper tenant screening.

Whatever the case may be I will tell you this.

I'm tired of the fortunes of this neighborhood being tied to the whims and wishes of other people.

Thing 1

The good news is I still have hair on my head.

The bad news is that on occasion I'm a dead ringer for Thing One from "Cat in the Hat."

I knew this transition was going to be extremely challenging.

Winter is the best time to start matters of this nature since you can easily explain away the constant presence of a hat.

Truthfully, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want my hair back.

She always looked good and allowed me to indulge my love of hot rollers and Aqua Net.

Yet you have to hold true. You have to hold fast.

Moreover I simply can't afford to spend the money.

So now I'm over a month in.

And while my hair is not looking as good as it should, it is starting to respond to my no chemical strategy.

Now that's not to say that a relaxer isn't in my future.

But putting a relaxer in hair that hasn't seen a good one in a while is like bringing a cheap umbrella to a monsoon.

Both are ineffective and won't produce the desired results.

My initial thoughts were to ease my hair back into actual styling. Hence my purchase of an electric pressing comb.

Because my hair is still fairly fragile I try to keep the heat (pressing comb, curling irons) to a minimum.

Let's face it folks, I need to be seen out in public at some point.

I prefer it not to be looking like a cartoon character.

Anthem

Everything old is new again.



Thank you Mr. Ellis for reacquainting me with this wonderful piece of Americana.

Temper, Temper

Did I not tell you that hurt feelings run deep over here?

Those letter's are something else, no?

But in the Teacher's defense, I know why she's got an ax to grind with me.

And in the past I have been guilty of leaving items in hallway.

For a long time.

And when I say a long time I mean over three days. Yes, I know that's beyond the boundaries of good neighborhsip.

I've since reformed my ways but if I'm schlepping things up and down three flights of stairs, I just make sure they're not in the way or left out for over 24 hours.

While we're telling truths, I also understand why she's upset with out current president after being given a hard time about frequency of meetings and asociation business transparency.

You see my friends, when your just an owner, it's really easy to bitch about things that aren't being done; it's much more difficult to assume the mantle of leadership and try to bring about that change.

I know, I've done it.

With two jobs and an active social life, might I add.

So I know how challenging it can be keeping the ship on the tried and true.

But now this shit is officially gone from the sublime to the ridiculous.

To address her crazy rants point by point, line by line would be exhausing.

And I'm not even going to get into the things I find annoying about her little domestic situation.

I might be unemployed but I have better things to do.

Not only can you all read, but you can read between the lines. You know crazy when you see (or read) crazy.

I'm not going to insult your intelligence.

But I will submit the following photograph for your inspection:



Clearly these "cheap, fake" tucked away boots by my front door are causing a tripping hazzard to person and property.

And to be super extra neighborly, I just picked up a can of Odor Eaters Foot and Sneaker Spray Powder to deal with any stinkiness.

'Cause let's face it---sometimes you don't smell your own shit.

But I do know poor conflict resolution skills.

Yele Haiti

This always happens.

Almost every time I call or seek a trades person to give me an estimate on work, I don't receive a call back.

Everything is okey doke and genial on the phone, except when we get to the address part.

Then there's a pregnant pause, a very hurried confirmation, assurances that someone will call me back and a dial tone.

The estimate falls into a black hole.

As a matter of fact, I'm going through this very problem right now.

It's not that I have the money to embark on any home improvement projects right now but it would be nice to have an idea of what it might cost should the funds become available.

Unfortunately as a south sider, things just aren't that easy.

In light of Mr. O'Reilly's comments, he was simply saying what many other certainly already believe.

Why else would you not respond to an inquiry for new business in the middle of one of the worst recessions ever recorded?

Many incorrectly believe that the south side is a shit hole and beyond redemption.

Yet what Mr. O'Reilly and the rest of the south side's detractors fail to acknowledge is that the disinvestment and isolation are just now starting to thaw in our neighborhoods.

It's easy to point out everything wrong with the south side when you don't sit and take into consideration the decades of near political disenfranchisement, severe rationing of key public services, schools with defacto segregation and stark income inequality.

So yes, the south side has a long way to go before she's back to her former glory but the situation is not quite as dire as some would have you believe.

You know what though---I consider Mr. O'Reilly's statement to be more of a compliment than an insult.

Considering Chicago was founded by a Haitian, I am honored as a south sider to be held next to the can do spirit and ever lasting optimism of the Haitian people.

I know few people would could deal with the grinding poverty and lack of opportunities, loose over 100,000 of their fellow countrymen in a devastating natural disaster then summon the strength to sing at their darkest hour.

I am in awe of their resilience.

It makes bitching about getting a someone to show up to give you an estimate look meaningless in comparison.

Yele Haiti.

A Night At The Opera

This time I was able to hold my homicidal tendencies in check.

You'll be thrilled to know I did not have a near psychotic break at the Lyric Opera last week.

I blame Puccini's Madame Butterfly.

For a person who is already pissed that she had to pay good money to see the female lead in the opera die, Madame Butterfly was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Anyone who has seen Madame Butterfly will confirm that it's impact could be a little intense for a first timer.

I dare you to add gimpy, menstrual, single and over 40 to the mix.

I'm surprised I wasn't putting together my sniper rifle in the dress circle.

But for this Puccini opera, things went much better.

As a matter of fact, you'll also be pleased to know that despite the fact that the heroine dies at the end, I really didn't have a problem with that.

But I digress.

Last week's offering was the moving Tosca.

Tragic story. Beautiful music. All the elements you come to expect from the master.

Knowing my abhorrence for the female protagonist dying, my opera buddy warned me that it wasn't going to end well for the prima donna.

"But not in the way you expect." He said.

"Let me guess, she kills herself." I replied.

He complemented me for my perceptiveness.

"Duh." "How else is she supposed to die in an unexpected way?"

Luckily the Lyric not only has English subtitles but an awesome program that steps you through the story of the opera.

So I usually go through the program and take a look before the lights go down.

It was all pretty standard stuff.

Jealousy, political prisoners, deception, love, passion.

And lust---lots of lust.

But here's the thing that chapped my hide, Scarpia---the bad guy---toally played Tosca the heroine.

For a saucy broad like Tosca, you would think that she would know the reputation of a player like Scarpia in Rome in 1800's.

They ran in the same social circles. How difficult would it have been to pick up on what a dog he was before she listened to anything he was dropping in her ear about her boyfriend.

That Tosca was a jealous one.

Furthermore, why would you ever listen to a guy who has to announce his importance to everyone by wearing a sash AND a cape.

One or the other would have been sufficient.

That's like the rich guy who wears the bespoke suit, drives the Bentley AND flashes the Amex Centurion. One of the three is enough to let us know we clearly aren't in the same tax bracket.

So just like a guy who must wear either his money or station on his sleeve, naturally he had designs on Tosca's goods.

He threatened her boyfriend with bodily harm so she would beg him to save his life

Scarpia wanted her honey pot. He's a low life, that's what they do.

Because Tosca's jealousy boxed her in a corner (she also unknowingly led soldiers to her boyfriend's hiding place), she did what desperate people tend to do when they're in a tight spot, she acted rashly.

And when I say rashly I mean she stabbed a fool.

And when I say fool I mean Scarpia.

So the die was cast. The table had been set. We all knew how this was going to end.

The boyfriend was killed, Tosca was devastated.

Her murderous ways are discovered and she's literally cornered.

Except she wasn't going down easy.

Instead of being taken alive she does an operatic "Top of the world, Ma" and throws herself from the castle rampart.

I would too if I just got played by a guy in a sash AND a cape.

Best Kept Secret

I discovered late last night that "I Hate My Developer" is a finalist in the "Best Kept Secret Weblog" category for the 2010 Bloggies.

I almost plotzed myself.

I'm really honored that voters thought enough of what I write to offer it up to everyone else for their final consideration.

For those of you who are coming to my humble little concern by way of the Bloggie website, welcome.

Since there's no pressure to go through all of the 650+ posts (unless you really want to), if you scoot down the left sidebar you'll see a section labeled "Essential Posts" for your perusal.

'Cause from time to time people want to know how I came up with such a catchy name for the blog.

Nonetheless, lets get down to the important stuff.

Where's the swag?

It's awards season and we all know that with all of these ceremonies and the hoopla there's usually some type of free stuff from luxury purveyors.

They want high profile peeps to be seen in their stuff.

Yet for some reason I don't think that Rolex is clamoring to get the watches on the wrists of Bloggie finalists.

But wouldn't it be a better world if they did?

So in the absence of crazy swag, I'd appreciate your vote.

And the votes of your friends.

A Bloggie may not solve my unemployment issues or help me figure out how to keep my utilities on but it will reinforce that my writing for the past four years has been valued and appreciated.

Frankly speaking, I could use a little bit of both right about now.

Scylla and Charybdis

For those of you whose mother didn't make them take two years of Latin, Scylla and Charybdis are the original "rock and a hard place."

Kinda like that calf between the crocodile and the pride of lions.

Early last week, I felt like that calf.

With this being my second round of unemployment, I have a very good sense on what to do and how to handle most situations.

But as many of my fellow unemployeds know, oft times your best efforts aren't good enough.

So then you switch tactics and network.

And then you network some more.

Then you leverage friendships to see if you can navigate the HR black hole that your resume is bound to land in if you don't make some type of effort.

But your efforts wear thin and erode your self esteem.

I have never been one of those people who's identity is closely tied to their work.

I now realize that while I crave stability I get easily bored with sameness and repetitive actions.

So when I had a job I obviously liked the financial stability but the repetitive, never changing nature of what I had to do, was slowly killing my soul.

But a sister has bills to pay.

And speaking of bills, I'm sure you can imagine the number my second tour on the dole is doing on my FICO score.

I am a living breathing embodiment of the term, "Rob Peter to pay Paul."

Rock and a hard place.

Besides the fact that I hate not being able to fully pay my bills, I still owe friends a considerable amount of money.

I really hate that. I really, really, really hate that.

But that's for another post.

So on top of worrying about covering bills and the job hunt, when I do finally make it past the HR and hiring manager gatekeepers will my FICO score be an issue?

Rock and a hard place.

Let's not discuss SPS and my mortgage.

Yet before this dissolves into a complete pity party, the great thing about The Battle at Krueger is that the rest of the buffalo come back for the calf.

Despite the fact things look pretty bleak, his clique rolls up and chases off the lions.

They rescue him from his rock and his hard place.

It always seems that help comes when you most need it and you least expect it.

Metaphor

I swear that I felt like this calf yesterday.

Good Hair

Most people know that change can be difficult.

Which is why I started my mini self improvement kick with an easy task. How difficult is it to get rid of a movie club membership?

The next task was going to take a little more of a gut check.

I have been wearing hair extensions---or my weave---off and on for about 12 years.

For those of you who aren't familiar with weaves they range from either synthetic or human hair on a weft to mini wiglets to the ever popular lace front.

And make no mistake, you get what you pay for.

If you want people to exclaim "I didn't even know that wasn't your hair!" odds are that you or your hairdresser has a hella hookup to a supplier who can get their hands on amazing human hair.

As Chris Rock pointed out in his movie "Good Hair," the epicenter of the human hair business is in India.

For brevity's sake, see or rent the movie for the full explanation.

I'm black. I already know how it works.

And don't pepper me with questions. I'm not the friggin black hair care encyclopedia. You've got access to the internet, look it up slakcers.

As a small aside, if I were an Indian girl with long beautiful hair you should be concerned if you're being followed by a group of black women.

It just might be a little suspect.

Mr. Rock's movie planted the seed that bloomed to the idea for me to start wearing my natural hair---again.

Aside from the cost (don't ask) I have a problem putting money into people's pockets who do very little for the community that enriches them.

Or at least that's my perception.

Another small aside for those of you who don't know---It would be ill advised for you to approach any black woman, even if you know her, and ask her about her hair.

Don't ask, don't touch and you'll come out alive.

If you ignore these rules, and make no mistake these are rules, I cannot be responsible for what's going to happen to you.

I'm just trying to look out for you all.

So if you happen to see some hair challenged woman around Woodlawn, try not to snicker too loud.

I'm getting reacquainted with myself.

Resolute

As 2009 came to a close, I decided not to make any new year's resolutions.

While there's a great many areas where I can improve, I decided to think about 2010 in another way.

I wanted to be a part of the solution.

Pretty lofty ambitions for a 40 something unemployed IT worker.

I will say that having free time on my hands has given me time to really think about my life, how I live and what's important.

And while I don't expect my decisions to have an immediate impact on my little corner of the world, I can at least make an effort.

With that basic premise in mind, I set out to take small steps to align my some of my living with my beliefs.

The first step was the easiest.

I cancelled an online movie subscription a few days before its quarterly renewal.

The company not only had a new billing vendor but the vendor was located out of the country and due to that we the customers were being charged a foreign transaction fee.

Yeah---I don't think so.

While that may seem small, I do get over $100.00 a year back in my pocket.

Unemployed or not, $100.00 bucks is $100.00 bucks.

It's not the big things that take you're money but the small ones that bleed you dry.

And while I was gladly paying the money every month, it was that little foreign transaction fee that gave me the push I needed to say enough---no more.

One phone call and it was done. It was easy.

Unfortunately my other personal projects required a little more of a gut check.

Things Fall Apart, The Chickens Come Home To Roost

One afternoon there was a knock at my door.

Imagine my surprise when I saw The Teacher on the other side.

Neighborly feelings have been in short supply since the bad neighbor dustup in the fall of '08.

While I was sorely tempted to walk away from the door, I answered it with a noticeable attitude.

And before everyone gets pissy, please note that I've gone across the hall and knocked on my neighbor's door only to hear someone come to the door, see them peep out the peephole and hear them walk away.

I'm just trying to give you all some background, but I digress.

So there we were, face to face.

The Teacher proceeded to briefly tell me what had been said in the condo board meeting; some of which was directed at her.

I was taken aback not only at the highly personal nature of the barb but the fact that since I was only one of two people who knew about the revelation, the information more than likely came from me.

Understandably the verbal attack upset her and as she was telling me this story, she started to cry.

At the time when I was talking to her I told her that I didn't reveal the information but as I sat and pondered afterward, there is no way that the information didn't come from me.

And that was some low down gut bucket bullshit.

My mama taught me better. There are no excuses for my actions.

Then I started to ponder a little bit more.

I was (and am) totally in the wrong.

But I get a knock at the door when her feelings are hurt? Hot tempers and words said in haste are of importance only when they're directed at her?

I felt a bit of manipulation rising to the surface.

While I don't doubt that her feelings about the comment were real and sincere, don't go getting all concerned about civility when some of the shit you've been throwing at the fan splatters back on you.

Clearly the animosity directed toward her by some members of our little association wern't by accident.

When you talk crazy to people and let your temper get the better of you, that's bound to have some ramifications in the long run.

My question is can we build a bridge, get over ourselves and be able to conduct association business?

Only time will tell.

Things Fall Apart, The Back Story

Drama has been brewing within our association for some time.

Without getting into any specifics, their was a perception among some owners that communication within the association was sorely lacking.

Moreover, when there was a request for information it wasn't exactly answered in a timely manner.

Now I took into account that anyone can manipulate a story to suit their needs and that I'm sure several key facts were left out.

Nonetheless out of everything that was said to me by several different people, the animosity was always directed towards the same person.

One would think that someone might be trying to manipulate me or maybe I'm just lucky that people feel the need to unburden their souls to yours truly.

Who can tell?

Now there are things you should know.

First, the drama is between a group of women.

Second, it's my opinion that it wasn't so much the lack of communication but the manner in which the inquiries were received.

You see not everyone has control of their temper.

When the manner of how you conduct association business is questioned and probed by people who really haven't stepped up to the plate, yeah you're gonna be pissed.

Trust me, I know.

Add that to a potential bad day AND a temper and you've got the beginnings of an in-house fight.

Since I myself have seen the "Mr. Hyde" side of this individual's personality, I never thought it out of the realm of possibility that others may have felt it's wrath.

So let's recap:

We have a bunch of women in a condo association with hurt feelings, misunderstandings and animosities between them.

What could possibly go wrong with that scenario?

Moreover who would attempt to capitalize on this chaos?

Things Fall Apart

Drama is afoot within the association.

While I've seen infighting before, it has now reached such a vitriolic levels we can't get any business done.

Which isn't good when you have important business that needs to be conducted.

And when I say vitriolic I mean highly personal attacks during condo board meetings.

Highly personal.

So feelings have been hurt and lines have been drawn.

Since I haven't been to a single meeting in quite awhile I'm going on what has been communicated to me by others and by those who send me e-mails.

Because as I'm sure you all remember, I decided to absolve myself of helping with any condo business partly due to nasty confrontation with a neighbor last year.

But that wasn't only the straw that broke the camel's back.

Mostly the apathy of most of my fellow owners pissed me off to no end. Everyone wants everything done yesterday but isn't willing to truly commit to the effort.

So fuck it.

I'd never asked for a dime of payment for my efforts but being taken for granted and then being told that you're a bad neighbor was just too much.

I rarely get too emotional. I'm not a yeller or a screamer by nature so often people mistake me looking at them like they're crazy as a sign of passiveness.

Losing ones cool often leads to larger drama and who needs that?

But once you're on the list---once you've reached my limit---game on.

Then it's scorched earth.

I'm not proud of that personality trait but I realize that I fall extremely short of God's grace.

It wasn't until a few days ago that I didn't understand how far I'd fallen.

One Track Mind

Unemployment is clearly a cash cow.

Trust me, I was just as shocked as you when I found this out.

Unfortunately the big bucks that I pull in from unemployment disqualifies me from receiving any type of assistance from LIHEAP or a Link card.

What kills me is that when I explain my basic monthly outlay to keep a roof over my head and the lights on the reply I receive is "We don't take your bills into account. That's not how this program works."

Un-flipping-believeable.

For a family of one (the cat doesn't count)can only have a gross income of about $1,100 a month to qualify for the Link card. For LIHEAP the most you can only is $1,354 a month.

I completely understand why many are just pissed off.

No one will help you despite the fact you've been a good egg and paid into the system.

Most homeowners with equity in their homes will not be helped by the Obama Plan.

Most single people can't qualify for a medical card or the Link card from the state.

One would almost think that the social service system isn't designed to help the middle class. You might also be tempted to think that the once you qualify for any type of help, that the system is designed to either keep you impoverished or make you lie to keep your benefits.

I'm done. I'm totally absolutely done.

Kool Aid

On occasion my neighbor Erin and I have serious discussions on what's wrong with this country.

While she sites Maroon 5 and Nickelback as prime causes, when I saw her yesterday I brought up a far more sinister force that is permeating our way of life.

Ladies and gentlemen, resist the Snuggie nation.

Billing itself as a blanket with sleeves, the American people have fallen for this ruse hook, line and sinker.

These abominations unto God are flying off the shelves like hotcakes.

At first I could ignore it like any other bad trend. Then recently I saw this horrific display in the front of the Walgreens at 67th and Stony Island.



Even Black people have taken a big gulp of the kool aid.

To quote Florida Evans, "Damn, damn, DAMN!"

When I asked the security guard if the evil Snuggies were selling briskly he said that they were. He even commented that he was considering getting one.

I guess the look on my face told him otherwise.

"So I shouldn't get one?" He asked.

"Ummm, no." I replied.

I then asked him what was wrong with the blankets that he already had at his house? He replied "But this is a blanket with sleeves. It's like I have a blanket on but it won't slip off when I walk around."

Damn player. How can you even begin to debate that slothful logic?

We're so lazy as a culture we can't even cover ourselves with a blanket. Now we have to take them everywhere?

I will say that if he expects any heat in the romance department, he best not be walking around in a Snuggie when his significant other is around.

'Cause if some man tried to rub up against me in a Snuggie I would inform him that until that thing is burned at the stake the candy store is closed.

Hell, the friction of all of that attempted rubbing might cause a spark which in turn would engulf the offending garment in flames.

Those things don't look too flame retardant.

Like all of the things I've instantly hated throughout the years----Pete Rose and Milli Vanilli just to name a few---I hope America wakes up before it's too late.

The Snuggie is the garment equivalent of having way too many cats.

You've been warned.

Solutions

Money is tight these days.

But I'm sure you figured that out as I'm unemployed.

As a result, the personal grooming budget had to be sacrificed.

It's not like was going out for facials, massages and seaweed wraps when I had a job but I tried to get my nails and hair done with some regularity.

You know, the basics.

Money hasn't been the only culprit, I've simply lacked the will to get off my ass and groom myself.

It's like a never ending downward spiral. You don't go anywhere so you don't get dressed. You don't get dressed so you stay in your PJ's all day. You stay in your PJ's all day so you don't comb your hair.

You know where I'm going with this.

But yesterday, I decided that I had to break the cycle. I couldn't look like a bag of ass anymore.

Yet how could I make the magic happen without breaking the bank?

The solution: Cosmetology schools.

For $5.00 plus a small tip, I was able to get the eyebrows tamed and a pretty good manicure.

So I feel better, look better and didn't spend a great deal of money.

Thanks, Truman Cosmetology Salon, I needed that.

On The Come Up

Since I rarely drive I may have missed the fact that the 63rd and the Dan Ryan had both inbound and outbound exit ramps.

Nonetheless the south bound exit coming from the city seems new to me.

Now I'm hoping the construction is sound and nothing falls apart, but can you believe this landscaping?



Yes ladies and gentlemen, this is 63rd and Wentworth.

But I'm sure you could tell that by the grattiesque auto parts sign in the background of this picture. Prettying up the urban landscape won't happen overnight.

Normally the ramp medians would be choked with weeds and trash.

This looks like something you'd see on the north side.

We're on the come up.

Capitalism

It was with some interest that I finally got around to seeing Michael Moore's latest offering "Capitalism, A Love Story."

I didn't realize that my own private little unemployment and mortgage hell had been translated to the big screen.

So much for that book deal and movie options.

Say what you will about Mr. Moore, but I can tell you with absolute clarity that I'm living a vast majority of that story right now.

On it's face that may seem depressing, but there are a number of things that let me know I wasn't the only one to notice that things were amiss.

Mr. Moore also called attention to those who foresaw the subprime mortgage fallout. He also pointed out that the TARP bailout was passed on the second go round despite the fact it was voted down the first time.

Make no mistake friends---This whole TARP thing sounded extra bootleg the minute it was announced.

It's nice to know I'm not crazy. I wasn't being paranoid.

So the question remains---what's next?

What happens when people's severance or savings disappears and they find out that the safety net that was so generously extended for corporate America isn't large enough for "average" American?

Ladies and gentlemen if you didn't read it when I wrote it the first time, understand it now: We're screwed.

I'm just curious about the course of action the rest of my fellow Americans are going to take when they wake up and smell the coffee.

This may not be pretty.

It's Always Something

Like most people, I have some neighbors that only speak to me when they need something.

A phone number of another neighbor. A key to the basement. I'm usually persona non grata until their needs come front and center.

That's not to say that there aren't a few great people who live in my association.

Neighbors who will pick me up when they see me on the bus stop, or take me along with them when they go to a big box store. Kind simple gestures that show a basic level of humanity and consideration.

And don't think for one minute that I'm making my neighbor's responsible for hauling my ass from point A to point B. I have a Chicago Card and a shopping cart, thank you very much.

But it sure is nice to give righty and lefty a break and every now and then.

So after the "Great Assessment Debacle" last fall, I made the decision to pull away from caring about my condo association.

Why in God's name would I care about our home more than a majority of the people who live here?

It's not just their attitude towards me that sticks in my craw---I've got thick skin. It's their complete lack of willingness to help in the smallest way for the betterment of our home.

Let me emphasize that again---OUR home.

Stuff doesn't get done around here by hoping and magic fairy dust.

While I have my issues with our treasurer and his wife, I will give them their props for doing a great deal of work on behalf of this association.

But then of course so have I and a few other people.

Unfortunately that spirit of cooperation nd a tiny bit of sacrifice is sorely lacking among a majority of my neighbors.

Which makes our latest set of issues quite interesting.