From the ‘You Can’t Make This Shit Up’ Department

January 20, 2008 Reno, NV (AP)

Drunken Neighbor Number One has moved out. Drunken Neighbor Number Two really is a Prostitute.
FYI it’s snowing and freezing. Again.

Been marveling about the irony of getting my (first tier = cheap!) Burning Man ticket on Wednesday. This is so I can run around nakie trying to stay cool in the blistering desert heat of summer….while currently freezing my ass off in the winter.

Anyway, I started up the zamboni earlier and dashed over to Save-Mart.
Had to cook some chicken before it went south for the winter and you can’t make a white wine sauce without white wine. Or so I’ve been told.
Oh sure, I’m all stocked up on chicken, mushrooms, garlic, the accouterments (and crazy) but am out of the main ingredient for the Marsala sauce.

Oh the weather outside is frightful
There’s no fire in here delightful
I have to leave home for the store
Should’ve moved to Vegas and become
A whore

Thank you. Thank you very much. I’ll be here all week. Don’t forget to tip your waitress.

Which brings me to the most amusing thing over the last week…

I’m elbow deep in raw chicken, flour, egg whites, meat mallet and a perfectly heated skillet with olive oil.
There’s a knock on the door.
Fuck. No one ever comes to visit me. Particularly uninvited. I make sure of it.

Valiantly attempt to wipe flour, eggs and raw chicken from my hands and open the door.
It’s Female Drunken Neighbor aka Drunken Neighbor Number Two.
She wants to use my computer to fill out an application for the Peppermill (a large local Reno casino). Her internet connection is unavailable.
Yeah no shit. It’s my wireless.
I’m sick of the fuckers in this complex stepping on my connection so I unplugged the router. The connection to the living room PC is rarely used anyway.

Chicken Marsala is one of those dishes where all the prep and cooking takes place at once. You can’t stop in the middle. So I tell Drunken Female Neighbor (hereafter known as DFM) to just use my computer. She promises to be quick. I occasionally glance in on her to make sure she’s stays out of my porn. Bitch needs to find her own.

Anyway, I’m almost done with the sautéing and DFM rushes into the kitchen saying that she’ll be right back. Okay. Don’t let the door hit you in ass. I’m busy here.

The cooking is finished, the kitchen cleaned up and she never returns. Goodie for me.

I go into my room and what do I find open on the web browser:

1. The Pepper Mill website employee application page?
2. Any casino’s employee application page?
3. Craigslist and a half-finished posting under the Erotic Services category?

If you picked Number 3 you win.

I began to giggle. Had a feeling that she was a hooker but this pretty much gives it away.
She has not been back and has now moved out of the building next door. I’m really glad about disinfecting the couch.

In a way it will be quiet around here. No more ‘Drunken Neighbor’ blogs. No easy amusement watching the absurd lives of other people, thereby granting me immunity over my own lack of a life.

At least there’s still the potential of follow-up amusement.

Next time you’re perusing Craigslist Reno click on the Erotic Services category.
Look for the Headline “Are they’re any real gentleman out there…”
Her name’s Amy by the way.

Happy Hunting!

~Miss R

Currently listening:
Jools Holland’s Big Band Rhythm & Blues
By: Jools Holland
Release date: 08 January, 2002

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