It Ain’t Easy Being Me: The Consequences of Being Truthful; Examples of the Deadly Sarcastic Dryburgh Wit and Something Funny About Hottie

So one day last week, PS (Pre Stroke) I opened my mailbox, got a letter that struck a blow. The letter was from what this province calls a STRADA, which those in the Excited States call a Homeowner’s Association. I was being charged with a violation and this notice was also being served on the owner of my wonderful apartment and the realtor that manages. The letter announced that I had violated a clause – I was being charged with “Excessive Noise”. I could understand that if it were my laughter, but no, it was because I had ‘slandered’ the ‘manager’ of this establishment. The manager is a woman, the rudest, most ungracious, the most inefficient woman I have ever encountered. I am not alone in this observation, everyone in these bulldings agree. But everyone tolerates her, does not speak to her but always (behind her back and often to me) rails on about how rude she is to everyone.. I absolutely love my apartment and am actually walking carefully (so I thought). I want to stay here, I do not want to get kicked out. Other residents have assured me that I will be fine. A known and unruly prostitute lived her for two years with beer cans all over the patio. But I guess speaking the truth is more offensive than Johns and beer cans. The woman manager (and I do use that term lightly) has no systems in place so false alarms and non functioning elevators randomly and often occur. There are no signs, no protocol. The fireman expect her to inform people what is going on – she merely growls at all.

But it was a severe blow – I love the sense of security that this place provides and I do not wanted to be kicked out. I stifled my rage and days later arrived at a plan. I wrote the realtor an email and explained my position. He immediately called back and we reached an amiable solution

But if you think I am going to suffer in silence you are crazy! I have my blog and no one can stop me from telling the truth. The blog can never be viewed as Excessive Noise and I do not name the woman or the place and truth is an absolute defense to slander. There is an excellent Canadian TV series Moment of Truth. I never watch TV usually but the hero is so tuff and feisty. I am she and she is me! She kicks rear end and walks away from men, from her family from everyone who would do her harm. She just served papers on the toxic waste spiller. But all of that is unnecessary in this instance. I promised to the two most important people that I will behave. I will be polite to this woman, I will not speak of her to anyone. She is not my problem The STRADA may try to make me the problem but I am not, she is. She makes everyone around her miserable. I will just steer clear of her and kill her with kindness. As Uncle Dave said: “Alexis, stop fighting!. Stand on the sidelines, in the end they will do themselves in!” She will, the people who tolerate her abuse will be done in. And if not, at least in the meantime, they will be miserable. I laughingly said to the realtor:

Me: Here I thought that all I had to do is pay my rent, keep the place spotless and not have any loud and obnoxious music and guests. But it seems that I also have to shut my mouth.

He: (laughingl) Yes, it is always something.

Me: Apparently.

But was this stressful or not? And did I have anyone – anyone to help me? The answer to stressful is YES and the answer to helpmate is NO. The David and Goliath story is interesting as told by Malcolm Gladwell. I am David, unencumbered and wily, even at my age. Lumbering, fat Goliaths with their heavy armor are no match for me. Particularly since I have truth on my side. I have learned to wait and take better aim with my sling shot and rock. I can keep my own counsel, valuable when doing battle. I can admit I made a mistake and then try to correct it. I also lead an examined life, a rarity in these parts. Probably most do not even know what an examined life is, much less strive for one. So sorry I am not telling you as it is part of my secret arsenal. .

A sense of humour is inherited and there is such a thing as a Dryburgh sense of humour. My female cousins own it in varying degrees. My brothers have it – but theirs is sarcastic and cold. But very recently I am adding that brand to my repertoire. I do rather love being mean.

I write this in the morning with classical piano music streaming though my computer. The sun is actually shining, there are even birds singing, not those sea gulls with their horrible squawks but real birds. My view is not attractive in most senses of the word. There is even garbage piled on the roof of a building nearby. I must go discover what building it is. Sherlock Holmes of Garbage. I fear the building may be part of the Tiah holdings but I cannot say for sure at this point.

Here is an example of my Dryburgh sarcastic wit. The following is taken from an email to a friend wherein there was a discussion of the possible necessity of having a car in Vancouver. Of course the real necessity if you are in Vancouver is MONEY.

Me: I realize that there is always Evo but why? I suppose I could do something to get more money and then have a chauffeur. I cannot imagine how the ordinary folk manage to live in this city – housing, food is expensive, taxation (compared to US) huge. But then they burden themselves with dogs, children. go skiing all of the time, smoke and many drive. Women often carry purses that cost hundreds of dollars – every third shop is a Starbucks, to say nothing of other coffee places. And then there is always the thong underwear – please see most recent post. And I forgot about the gyms?!?! I am definitely going to have put this in my blog. I am a parasite but so are most I meet. Every once in awhile my deadly sarcastic Dryburgh wit emerges. It ain’t pretty! Alexis

She: No response as yet.

But here is an example of gym humour. A new acquittance saw a picture of Hottie and said:

She: I would work out every day with him and then I would exercise!

But what is truly funny is that Hottie does not read my blog. He is the same as CCC who appeared often in print but similarly did not read my blog.

CCC: I do not need to read your blog because I am in the movie

Well I do wonder if CCC reads my blog now since he is no longer in the movie. Why? Because I do not, and never will, darken the door of Rump International Prison, the place that employs him. Dryburgh Sarcastic Wit strikes again.

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