Call Me Dingo Fierce
Things have pretty much sucked since my last post, Innernetz. With so much going on it’s been difficult to write with blinding tears and snot running all over the keyboard and whatnot. Everything I wrote sounded like, Waaaaaaa! Waaaaaaaaa! Moving sucks! Waaaaaaaa! I hate living in the ‘hood! Waaaaaaa! We’re broke! Waaaaaaa! See how boring that gets after a while? I tell you waaaaat, I was sick of myself. I needed something to take my mind off of my pathetic pity party and the unsettling feeling of just seeing my new neighborhood on Cops.
And then, then Innernetz, I got an email from the folks over at Noble Works Cards. They asked if I’d be interested in hosting a giveaway on my blog. Giveaway?! Hells yeah, I’d be interested in a giveaway! One lucky and creative As I Was Saying reader is going to get a $25 gift card to spend on some of the hilarious, irreverent, and often downright offensive Noble Works gift cards, mugs, calendars, and memo pads. Could anything be more perfect for you, Innernetz?! But simmadownnow, bitches. You gotta work for this.
Here’s how this is going down. Head over to Noble Works Cards and take a look around. Pick your favorite card and leave a comment to this post telling me what card made you pee in your pants, who you’d send the card to, and any additional comments you’d write on the card before dropping it in the mailbox. You have until Saturday, February 13th at noon (because I’m not rolling outta bed before then) to submit your comment. On Valentine’s Day, I’ll announce the comment I love the most. And Voila! You have a $25 gift card! How easy is that?
You wanna know how easy it is? Here’s a card I ordered for Mr. Dingo’s former employer with the $25 gift card Noble Works sent to me for hosting the giveaway. And here’s my P.S.:
I hope that you get syphilis of the soul from all the people you’ve fucked over and that the dried piece of jerky you call a heart is absorbed into your lower intestine like a cancer and passes through your anus like the hardened piece of shit you are.
Smooches,
Dingo
I wonder if I should sit on it for a day or two?
But Innernetz, my absolute favorite purchase is the St. Bitch the Fierce Magnetic Memo Pad. I love this memo pad. It’s a legally recognized license to be the fashion police and to launch a citizen’s arrest all wrapped up in one delightfully robed visage — St. Bitch the Fierce. I can’t wait until they get here. I will be a superhero! I can write wrongs and right wrongs.
My first citation will be given to the baby mamas and their crotch fruit who live directly above me. How shall I put this? Oh yeah, I hate them. Hate. Them. The never ending noise. Sweet baby jebus, the constant noise! Are they wearing cement shoes? Why are they running around in circles for hours and hours every single night? I mean, shouldn’t the little semen demons be in bed by 8? But the running, jumping, and screaming continue until 2 or 3 in the morning. Are they herding sheep before they count them? All that running simply reminds me that polio once played an important role in child care. And then there’s the music. I may have been able to forgive the loud thumping bass that rattles the three-inch-thick steel security gates over my windows but I cannot forgive the desecration of the King of Pop and Billy Jean. Aren’t there copyright restrictions that prevent Menudo wannabes from singing “Billy Cheen es not my luvah. Cheese jussa girl says dat I am de juan”? Really, Baby Mamas? Is that the song you really want to have on repeat? I know, I know, many of you are probably saying, “Oh Dingo, have you tried talking to them?” Silly Innernetz, do you want me to get stabbed in the face? Because a knife sticking out of my face would not be a good look for me. And that’s where my St. Bitch the Fierce memo pad comes in handy. I can anonymously leave them a polite note asking them to respect their neighbors and STFU. I should get a good citizen award but I’m already a saint and it would be a sin to be so greedy.
Two nights ago the thumping and jumping reached Def Con 4. My earplugs whimpered in defeat. And then, it happened. There was crash that shook the ceiling and sent Dingo Girl running for cover. All was quiet for about five seconds and then there was keening and howling like a pack of drunken coyotes on a Spring Break bender. Holy shit. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I bang on the ceiling? Call an ambulance? The po-po? No, I St. Bitch the Fierce had an even better idea.
Running into the bedroom where the crying was the loudest, I climbed on top of the dresser. I was only six inches away from the shrieking and crying. But it was six inches too far. I stretched up on my tippy toes. My calf muscles, still sore from the move, groaned in protest, but this was important. I was not going to stand by and do nothing. Bracing my hands on the wall to give me some leverage and traction, I was just three inches from the ceiling. Three scant inches from ground zero. I didn’t hesitate. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with air, and shouted:
HAHAHHAHAHAHWOOOTWOOOTHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHTAKETHATMUTHAFUCKA!!
And for five blissful seconds, the yelling, crying, and music stopped. I held my breath. Fuck. And then I breathed a sigh of relief. I am St. Bitch the Fierce. And I don’t care how obnoxious you are, you wouldn’t stab a saint in the face. Would you?
Posted on Monday, February 08, 2010 at 03:48 PM.
Tags: In The Neighborhood, La Vida Loca
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Comments & Trackbacks
It’s never easy moving into the ‘hood, especially if you happen to be: a) the only white face around; and b) the only one that hablos the Ingles. I did, however, love how you handled the little problem of the constant noise from upstairs. I’m also hoping things go better for you. Be strong, my saint.
Oh honey. I’m so sorry. I just want you to know that my Porn Basement is vacant and my semen demons are in bed by 7:30 if you should ever get stabbed in the face and have to move to the ‘burbs.
I’m here for you is what I’m trying to say.
Wow! I could get into religion if I had Dingo, St. Bitch the Fierce and St. Stoogepie and Crissy, QOFE to worship on a regular basis. (Reading your blogs totally counts as worship, right?)
Sorry y’all had to move into the ‘hood.
And I’d send Valentine’s Day card #7163 “The instant he kissed her, she knew that this night was going to end up in her blog” to Mr. POSSLQ. Not that we “do” the whole V-Day thing.
Good luck getting your neighbors to STFU. If I find something that works, I’ll let you know!
1. You don’t seem to ever tire of whining to ME.... Just sayin’.
2. I heart Menudo and really do hope you have a poster on your wall. If not, I’m buying you one.
3. POUND ON THE CEILING!
4. AGAIN, how did I NOT THINK of using BARBIES to make cards???? HELLO???
5. I’m gonna go with the “10 Drive By Sermon Post Cards.” I can’t pass up a card that says, “You Got to Sin to be Saved.”
Mr. POSSLQ — Who said anything about being white? I’m just a snob.
Crissy — The Porn Basement is enticing even if I don’t get stabbed in the face. I knew I could count on you.
MsDarkstar — I think Dingo, St. Bitch the Fierce, St. Stoogepie, and Crissy, QOFE constitute the Trinity in many world religions.
Jules — 1) And you deserve a medal for taking a bullet for the Innernetz. Bitch. 2) It figures. You probably still like Rico Suave. 3) Please re-read the part about getting stabbed in the face. 4) How are we going to be rich if you don’t come up with the great ideas before someone else does? 5) Seriously.
#0544 I want to send it as my holiday greeting next Dec.!
Good to hear from you. Sorry so many things suck right now.
At least now you know you can be as loud as you want without bothering your neighbors!
Googling ‘Menudo posters’.....
p.s. my word verification is “means 69” so there you go....
Oh, it’s SO hard to CHOOSE!
My first favorite was “To whom it may concern: fuck you,” (I’d give that one to a certain co-worker of Mr. Chili’s who completely fucked over our February vacation plans) followed closely by “Bitch, Bitch, bo-bitch - fo-nana, fana, fo’ fitch...” I’d send that one to O’Mama, because she’s totally a bitch. I’m going to back to the site now to look over some more…
Oh your neighbors sound like my new neighbors, except I didn’t move. They have been recording “rap” music daily since last week. And then replaying it over and over. To prove themselves? To impress the rest of us? I do not know.
I think I’d get them a card for sure. It’d probably be the “To Whom It May Concern...” and then inside I’d write “Don’t forget you share walls with people, you dumb son of a bitch.” And that is so not like me.
Then again, I really like this mug: http://www.nobleworkscards.com/mc102-beautiful-mug-funny-all-occasions-mugs.html
Geez. I’m sorry you’ve had a crappy run of it. I really don’t miss living in the ‘hood too much, though the ‘burbs are scary in their own way, no doubt. Boo. Hang in there.
And holy hell, I’m loving these cards ... still reading ‘em, haven’t picked a favorite yet. And I think my slightly-unhealthy collection of memo pads is about to be significantly padded.
Oh honey, I’m so sorry. Moving sucks, no way around it. Especially when you’re looking for somewhere that’ll take pets. Even though our pets are better behaved than the majority of the tenants.
and um, speaking of whining, have you READ my blog lately? It’s seriously time for the waaaaambulance over there. It’s all waaah, my house burned down, waaah, it rained, waaa it snowed. I mean, sheesh. But on the bright side, there’s rooms free in the motel we’re in. The dogs can play together while we drink bad coffee out of the lobby. Come on down!
I’m so sorry Dingo. I hate it when your neighbors are bad. It makes the whole thing seem even worse. Get a broom. Bang on the ceiling daily. Play The Shining on top volume REDRUM REDRUM on the regular. Be a bad ass motherfucker and they will shape up.
And in AA, we have a tradition of giving “birthday” cards for sobriety birthdays. Here’s my pick for that. http://www.nobleworkscards.com/0908-biggest-whore-funny-talk-bubbles-happy-birthday-card.html And it will say, “Oh wait, you already did that you dirty slut.”
Ohhh, great cards!!! I would get this one for RightHand, as he loves pugs (we’re hoping to rescue one in the next year or two) and history. And I have already given him every pug card available at Target. Seriously.
http://www.nobleworkscards.com/4603-napoleon-bonapug-funny-fabulous-pugs-happy-birthday-card.html
Some bitches in the dorms used to call the front desk and complain about my roommate and me being noisy at 2 a.m. and we were all WTF? Like you’re supposed to sleep in college or something. But, when the neighbors upstairs started bouncing a fucking ball repeatedly (do you know what that sounds like in a cinder block prison cell of a dorm room?) I just yelled and threw my hair brush at the ceiling until it stopped. I commend you for handling it on your own. That’s how real bitches do it.
Dingo, you have the worst luck with upstairs neighbors. At least the babies aren’t wearing stilettos, right? Perhaps you should learn from previous asshat neighbors and repeatedly buzz the Baby Mamas in the wee hours of the morning (I’m thinking 6 or 7 am, just as they’ve settled down after a hard night’s partying). Or perhaps get McJagger to poo on their balcony furniture?
Oh, and send them this Thank You So Fucking Much card, with this note scrawled in the blood of innocents:
...for the free birth control. Long Live Idiocracy!
I hate stomping and romping, especially when it involves cement shoes. I hate your neighbors for you. Shit. Sounds like broom to the ceiling time.
Why do some people suck? I used to be queen of the anonymous note in my old apartment building. But I think people were wise to me. Maybe that’s why I got robbed…
Dearest Dingo, I am sorry you had to move. Would it make you feel better to know I am coming to NYC next week? And I would love to see you/drink with you?
But… but… I can’t choose!
Sorry about the whole move and troubles. As you’ll recall, I’ve had some less-than-spectacular experiences with neighbors myself. Perhaps you can train Dingo-Girl to bark and growl like a rottweiler?
Oh my. I truly am not sure if I feel more sympathy for you, or for the poor little kids. I have a hard time thinking that you suffer more from the noise than they do from the shitty parenting they receive. One of my pet peeves, I guess. I am very sorry that you had to move, however.
My FIL’s younger half-brother and his wife live in the badlands of Atlanta. Trying to raise two little kids. And they had neighbors whose landlord broke into the apt. and raped the child who was left home alone. I can’t get that out of my head now when I think of kids living in those places. I would probably get shot there the first day, because I would absolutely be unable to shut my mouth about the abuse and neglect. Good luck.
Oh lady! I am so sorry you’re having such a rough time of things. Sending good thoughts!
Why are some people just such quince nuts?? I hate obnoxious neighbours. husband had an obnoxious cement footed neighbour who would keep him up all night. The man slept during the day, so husband would put his Iron Maiden CD on, put the speakers to the floor, blast them on 10 and then go off to university.
It didn’t solve the problem, but made him feel better just the same.
dingoooooo, so good to see a post from you. sorry you had to turn everything upside-down and move. i guess it’ll make for good posts though, because i doubt menudo will slow down for long. also, npw is coming to nyc and that’s always a good thing. i’ll be away then, which is not so good as i was hoping for a reunion.
ps - the first comment cracked me up
HOLY. SHIT. “Semen Demons”? “Crotch Fruit”?
SO fucking funny! You’re seriously hysterical!
April — That card is really funny! And yes, I can be as loud as I want. I’ll show them! I’ll blast NPR all night long!
Jules — Don’t make me come up there and stab you in the face.
Mrs. Chili — Hey, isn’t that the card O’Mama chose for you?!
LesleyG — I think the only thing that would make that mug even better, would be to fill it with some Irish coffee. Especially since you’ll be doing nothing all day.
inkpuddle — The ‘burbs definitely have their own brand of scary. All those lawn mowers and leaf blowers at 8am on Saturday morning. Hmmm, there’s got to be a STFU card for people like that.
Shania — Yeah, I think your house burning down has me beat. And living in a hotel with a posse of kids and critters. Damn girl, wanna come live with me?
k8 — I think they will find it difficult to believe I’m a bad ass in my Ann Taylor loft sweater set. Maybe I can wear it without the pearls.
Reagan — The woman on the first floor has a pair of pugs that try to kick Dingo Girl’s ass every time we see them. Pugs are cute until they try to rip out your throat. Of course you have to kneel down to give them access, but still…
Harna — Note to self: get a hair brush.
Saratogajean — Oh, I have no doubt that in two months, the babies will be wearing stilettos. And big ol’ hoop earings. And loooong acrylic nails with a lovely winter scene hand-painted on them. It’s what all the well-dressed toddlers are wearing these days.
Summer — I think the Innernetz should bring their brooms to my place. We’ll make a party of it.
Prosy — I hope my neighbors won’t connect the St. Bitch the Fierce notes to me, but really, how could they not?
NPW — Yes! I would love to see you! Are you buying?
GeekHiker — You must choose. You must! And then you’ll have something to hand your neighbors the next time they show up at your door at 3am.
S.K — Me! You’re supposed to feel more sympathy for me!
Allie — Thanks, Allie. And it’s sooo hard to think green when you’re seeing red. Although, if I killed them and composted the bodies…
Lyvvie — Quince nuts? They should put that on a card. And although I don’t have any Iron Maiden, I think that Les Miserables would serve the same purpose.
blakspring — Admit it, you’re really going to be in town, you just don’t want to come to the ‘hood.
AnnQ — I thought those were less offensive than “fuck trophy” but it seems that some readers were offended all the same.
love to a holy bitch from a bitch about Brittany
That was perfect. 
Now you need to locate the exact point above you where the crotch fruit sleep, buy a creepy voice distorter and learn how to yell, “I AM COMING TO EAT YOUR INNARDS” in Spanish, through the ceiling.
Um yeah when I first read this, my tiny brain thought “but I don’t have a Noble Works Cards in my neighborhood.” I am a blonde. I worked at the Hallmark store in high school. What is this magical device you call the Internet?
Maybe you can hire the “Pants on The Ground” guy to do hourly singing telegrams. Only, I’m not sure he’d do it in espanol.
I will always call on St. Bitch the Fierce for any problems I have that need a passive aggressive fix too. Also you could use your side kick Dingo Girl and leave a nice little present in front of their door everyday. Just after the ol’ walky walk I’m sure you have a nice bag of leavings you could just accidentally drop in front of their door. And of course leave a calling card: Card 7253 “FIERCE” Inside you could write “Shut the hell up or the many plagues of St. Bitch the Fierce will descend upon you!”
Plauge 1: Shit
Plauge 2: More Shit
Plauge 3: So Much Shit
And so on.
My card would be #0406:
“Whatcha doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You did that yesterday.”
“I wasn’t finished.”
And I would send it to my friend Susie, aka Hot Comb and the inside message would read:
“Bitch, I am on my way with a box of brownie mix and a box of wine!”
rosie — Us bitches have got to stick together.
Veg Ass — Estoy viniendo comer su tripa.
Mel Heth — The Internet *is* your neighborhood! Head on over to Noble Works!
TCD — And then how do I get rid of him?
Toe — Fantastic idea! I like how you think. Maybe I’ll feed her a big ol’ bowl of chili for lunch tomorrow.
QP — Brownies and wine?! Susie is one lucky bitch.
i wish i hadn’t gotten so behind on my reading that i missed this. and i wish i weren’t drunk.
Reminds me of the time that Mr.Hot and I stood on the bed to give a standing ovation to the couple who were, shall we say, bumping the headboard and being, um, verbal right over our heads.
I must write that story one of these days.
I am a bad friend, but I will help you rock the new hood anytime. Anytime I am not playing the corporate slave. Sounds like you are doing *just fine* on your own, though!
My friend Joan asked me to send this message for her because the famous and unfortunately blind Akismet blocked her comment on your blog.
What has been happening is that WordPress blog owners have been using Akismet as a censoring device, rather than as a spam filter.
One complaint to Akismet and a person can be banned on thousands of sites, alienating the commenter from the blog owner, and virtually guaranteeing that the commenter will not take the chance of leaving comments on the site in the future.
Joan really liked your site. Too bad you had to go and hurt her feelings by following in the footsteps of a service (Akismet) that is stopping a lot of worthwhile social media interchanges. Sincerely, Roman
Joan’s message:
I visited the Noble Works card site and found many of the cards reflect sensational ideas.
I have jotted the site down for future purchases, so if you have a way to secure a commission or reward for steering me their way, please claim it.
Or perhaps you have it set up so you can receive a commission at the time of purchase. I’ll leave that up to you. If there is something I need to do when I order like tell them where I got the information, I am happy to do that.
Again, thanks for the reference.
Joan
clairemontgomerymd — I wish I were drunk.
Ree — Did you get an encore? I wonder how they were able to look you in the eye the next time they saw you.
Marian the librarian — I can’t wait for you to come visit. But you’ll never get away from your desk. I’ll have to kidnap you. I can probably find someone around here to do it for me.
Roman Pavlova and Joan — It’s amazing how I get a million comments from your company that turn out to be spam. You rcomment “from Joan” passed through Akismet. As a result, your comment is ironic because it *does* demonstrate a weakness in Akismet. It should have filtered out your comment. Please don’t comment again. I will delete it in it’s entirety instead of just the part where you are hawking your product
fuck the cards. I’ve missed you!!!! We have so much to catch up on. I never did come back to NYC after I saw you. We gots to talk. Pls call me. Send me ur email to and I’ll send you my number.
Lots of love
J
I’m sad I didn’t see this earlier.
Here’s hoping things are better for you by now…
And if not, I hope you scared the Menudo lovers far far away.