Scum and Villainy

Recently I have taken over the task of managing the Facebook page for my property. Which is kind of fun, since I'm getting paid to do something I've been doing for free for the past six years. It's also nice to take a break from parking catastrophes and leaky water heaters and think about something positive. After meeting with our Regional Marketing Manager (who also happens to be a good friend and fellow Sally Tomato), I had some great ideas for what to post. She mentioned highlighting strange holidays, like National Talk Like a Pirate Day or National Grilled Cheese Day, stuff meant to get peoples attention and have them discuss in depth on our page. Voila, free advertising! Social media marketing is the wave of the future after all.

Grilled Cheese is awesome.

Seeing as today is May 4th, it seemed only fitting that my inaugural status update be about Star Wars Day (if you aren't friends with any nerds, it references "May the Fourth be with you"). Here is what I said, "Happy Star Wars Day! May the Fourth be with you! What are some of your favorite Star Wars quotes?" I have to admit, I was slightly bummed that we weren't instantly bombarded with hundreds of George Lucas's best lines. So I decided to get the ball rolling with my own favorite quote:

"You will never find a more wretched 

hive of scum and villainy." 

Now, if you are complete dolt and have never seen Star Wars, this line describes the Mos Eisley Cantina, an intergalactic dive bar with some killer live music and local color. It may be somewhat obscure, but I just love how eloquently disdainful the quote is. Plus, Alec Guiness's delivery gives me goosebumps for some reason. (Sidebar, did you know that Alec Guiness hated Star Wars? Well La Di Da Mr. Shakespearian Thespian...)

The comment had been up for about a minute when I began to over think as I am wont to do, especially when sending out something that hundreds, potentially thousands of people are going to read. Think about that line again. In the context of an apartment complex Facebook page. Does it sound at all like I'm calling the property a "wretched hive of scum and villainy?" Because that's what it seemed like to me. Completely unintentional, or course. But I decided to delete it after only a few minutes. God knows how many people saw it, read it, and read that much into it. I seriously doubt they gave it any thought. I know that I tend to ignore or hide any postings from companies. But since I'm obsessive and this is Corporate America, you can't be too careful when it comes to anything permanent like that.

Yes, that is a cake. Happy Star Wars Day Indeed!

I'm publicly admitting to this blunder mostly because as soon as I took it down, I started laughing hysterically. Because on a really bad day, when people are really pissing me off, I would feel that it's not entirely inaccurate. But you just can't go around inadvertently trash talking your place of business, particularly through a medium designed to promote the darn place. Even if it is thinly veiled through a quote from an iconic seventies sci fi opera/western/epic. So far no one has provided any other quotes. But I'm determined to make this the most popular apartment company Facebook profile on the interweb, so help me Yoda!

Without Hope or Agenda

The day before Christmas Eve, a vase full of beautiful red roses was delivered to my office. For a brief moment, I entertained the fantasy that they were for me (because I’m a girl and couldn’t help it). Sadly, the envelope was addressed to one of our residents. I dutifully notified her via phone and e-mail of her special delivery. We would be closing early on Christmas Eve, so I wanted to make sure that she received them before the holiday.

These particular roses cost $115. What a waste.

A very beautiful, heart-rending waste.

But the resident never came. The flowers were still sitting on the table when I returned from my mini-vacation four days later. By then they were all wilted and sad looking. I’ve always thought that in theory, flowers are a terrible gift. They inevitably die (plus they’re way overpriced and I don’t believe in wasting money). I still love getting them, though! It’s the thought that counts more than anything, right?

Sad!

When the roses died for real, the office housekeeper threw them away and washed out the vase. She put the card on my desk to give to the resident if she ever came to pick it up. It turns out that the resident had called to see who they were from. She authorized my co-worker to open the card and read it over the phone.

This is what it said:

“_____ Just wanted to say, without hope or agenda, just because it’s Christmas (and at Christmas you tell the truth), to me, you are perfect. Thinking of you and wishing you a Merry Christmas : ) _____”

My cold, crusty heart just melted at that! And if you are a complete loon and didn’t recognize the reference, this guy was quoting a famously heartbreaking scene from the greatest Christmas movie/romantic comedy/anytime movie ever, Love, Actually. I was shocked, SHOCKED I TELL YOU, that none of my co-workers were familiar with it. Once I explained the significance (it basically means that this poor sod is in love with a girl he knows he can never have, but still feels compelled to spill his ever-loving guts out to in one of the sweetest ways possible), they nearly died from estrogen-overload as well! The girl's response to this note was, and I quote, "Oh." Could she be less enthused?

The notoriously frustrating yet sweet scene in question.

The fact that this biznatch must have totally shot him down got me all up in arms. I mean, I don't know this girl or her situation. Maybe she's also married to the guy's best friend like in Love, Actually. Maybe she's a lesbian. Or perhaps she really just doesn't have those feelings for him no matter how much she wishes she did. I also don't particularly care if the guy is a screamingly hideous, soul-sucking bastard (though I highly doubt it if he's willing to quote an uber-chick flick and send roses). All I know is, if I had received those flowers, I would have bolted past airport security with sweeping, epic string music in the background and a crowd of Portuguese townsfolk following me, only to bang on the window of the gate where the guy (who inevitably looks like Sexy Jesus) is getting on the last plane out to America, and start belting, "All I want for Christmas is you!"

Unintentionally stole this from my friend Jess.

The other most frustrating scene in Love, Actually.

Who knows if the resident will ever stop by to claim her empty vase and love note. On second thought, she better not. Otherwise she'll get a punch on the nose from me, having imagined this grand and tragic love story that never was.

Keys in Strange Places

One of the services my office provides is to unlock people's apartments when they lose their keys/get locked out of their apartment. Usually I dread someone coming in saying, "Can someone open my door for me?" First of all, I revile these people for being so stupid/unorganized/lazy and losing their keys in the first place. Secondly, this usually happens five minutes before closing and we have to rush maintenance to cut another one (which is very stressful and difficult not to mention we all just want to go home.)

Boo!!!

And finally, it means I have to drop however many hundreds of balls I happen to be juggling at the moment (tee hee balls), get the keys from the box, and escort them all the way to their apartment. Depending on where their apartment is located, this could mean quite the trek. Especially if it is 100 degrees like the other day and I'm wearing a full suit. Then I secretly chant makeshift voodoo curses in my head while making cheery small talk.

But sometimes, I enjoy rescuing people because they often have hilarious or unusual stories about how they came to be without their keys. Here are the top five:

1. Guy who lost his keys several months ago in The Body Shop, a strip club off Sunset. To this day he still has not paid the $5 fee to cut a new key. He simply locks his front door from the inside, then goes out his patio door and jumps over some bushes. This is someone who pays at least $1200 for rent every month, (and god knows how many thousands on strippers), and he won't fork out five bucks for a key. I hope she was worth it, buddy.

My favorite part is "18 Years OK!" Classy joint.

2. Guy who left his keys in Israel. God knows how expensive it must have been to overnight a package from a place where the local post office is probably getting bombed constantly. Reliable courier services must be hard to come by there.

3. Guy(s) who left their keys in Vegas. From one type of pilgrimage to another. This one happens quite frequently. I just chuckle at them and ask them if they had a good time. They tend to respond with a sheepish grin.

4. Guy(s) who pissed off their crazy girlfriends who are now holding their keys hostage until they grovel. Seriously, I encountered this with two different residents, one of which not only stayed with the girl, but she did this twice! I don't know what they did to piss them off, but it sure is a brilliant way to get revenge.

Bitches, man. Bitches.

5. Guy whose keys are at the police impound lot. I asked him if he had had a rough night, and he replied, "Not as rough as some." Badass. But it turns out that it was his friend who was caught smuggling something nefarious unbeknownst to our hero, and his car was impounded because of it. Doesn't that suck? Anyway, the guy told me that now anyone who enters his car will be subjected to a strip search in case they too may be holding. I thought he was joking until he exclaimed, "If you don't want my finger up your rectum, then you won't be getting in my car." True story. Needless to say, I will be avoiding this person for several reasons from now on.

If you've noticed that this list is comprised of entirely male residents, then you would be spot-on. Girls get locked out all the time too, but they don't have nearly as good stories. (Usually it's because they went to the gym and their roommate locked the door. Yawn) I will update the list if I get any more good ones. Just so you know, the curse I put on these people is less severe depending on how entertained I am by their excuse.

Getting Busy

I am convinced that yesterday was the pinnacle of my customer service career. One resident was so fed up with her upstairs neighbor's "bedroom habits" that she decided to record the incessant squeaking of the bedsprings that were keeping her awake at night. She was tired of having to explain to her young daughter that the neighbors were just "moving furniture" in the middle of the night. "Momma, they sure move a lot of furniture," the daughter said. So just in case we thought she was exaggerating or making it up, she actually caught the neighbor in the act on tape knocking boots like some kind of boot-knocking madman.

I kept trying to convince her that we believed her and that we were doing everything we could to resolve the situation. But it's not like we can ask this poor guy to stop having sex in his own apartment. We didn't need proof but nevertheless she insisted on holding the tape player up to the phone and playing it for me. So there I was sitting at my desk, listening in on the intimate if not exactly private affairs of one of my residents. Emotionally, I was torn. I felt bad for the guy on the tape who just wanted to get his freak on and here we were about to meddle. But at the same time, it was really loud. I'd be pissed too if that was my neighbor and I couldn't sleep whenever he got lucky. And then on the other hand, I was impressed. Homeboy has stamina. I mean, he was REALLY going for it. Hat's off to you, sir. But mostly I was just uncomfortable. There's nothing worse in my opinion than accidentally overhearing other people getting it on, no matter who it is. I have some horror stories, believe me.

So this incident just combined many things I despise:

1. People bitching

2. Problems for which there are no answers

3. Awkward confrontations

4. Listening to complete strangers have sex

I believe the compromise was that Homeboy was going to dismantle his bed frame and just put the mattress on the floor. Hopefully that helped. I really don't want to have to listen to another amateur recording of his mating rituals. Situations like this, of which there is no short supply in Studio City, definitely keep life interesting.

"Is Everyone Ok?": Murderers in Studio City

This was the headline of an e-mail I got from my operations manager today at about 2:30pm. Most every one else was out of the office on tours or jaunts or whatever it is people do when they leave me to man the fort. Intrigued, I opened the e-mail and discovered this message:

"I heard there was a murderer loose in Studio City. Three schools are on lockdown.

Is everyone alright?"

At first I thought it was a sick joke. But April Fools Day was over two weeks ago (and had passed thankfully without event. Damn that blasted holiday. I positively loathe practical jokes.) But this isn't the kind of guy to pull that stuff.

So frantically, I started googling "Murderer loose Studio City April 15th" (just in case there were murderers loose on other days). I came up with an article saying that sure enough, three schools were on lockdown and many of the streets within a mile from us were closed.

Suddenly feeling the urge to start

singing "Bad boys, bad boys

whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do

when they come for you."

But that's every Friday.

I panicked, since I was basically alone in the office. The apartment complex I work at is massive with lots of sweet hideout spots for someone on the run from Johnny Law. And though it is gated, with full-time security guards, there are ways to penetrate our defenses if one is desperate and crafty enough to try. Naturally my mind started flashing back to the special I had just watched on E! the day before about "15 Shocking Acts of Violence." (Which was followed by E! News. It's hard to go from watchings Kindergartners get murdered in cold blood to Who is Miley Cyrus dating this week?). Then I started thinking about that season finale of Grey's Anatomy where that crazy dude starts shooting up the place (a most intense and excellent episode). If it happened on Grey's Anatomy, it most certainly could happen in Studio City. Because as you know, that kind of shit actually does happen here in real life!

In this scenario, and this scenario alone,

I fancy myself McDreamy.

I started running around the office frantically, not sure what to do in case of a possible mass murder of our precious porn stars and child actors that live in the complex. I didn't know what or whom I was looking for, but I couldn't just sit at my desk and wait to be killed to death! (Because I was convinced it was going to happen at this point. Though the way the afternoon turned out after this, it probably would have been a relief. Hooo-wee!) Eventually I sat back down and re-read the article for clues on how I could take this mother down if he tried to hurt me, my co-workers or the porn stars. Then I noticed this addendum at the bottom of the article:

"The suspect has been captured and is in custody as of 1:30pm"

So he had been caught for over an hour before I got the e-mail. Phew. That was fun. Then it was back to frantically working as always without the threat of impending doom.

Until about 6:45pm when the FedEx guy arrived. He was late because of the streets being shut down. We started talking about the murderer and he said that he was still on the run. But...but...but...they caught him hours ago, right? Apparently there were three and they had caught two? At least that's what the FedEx guy said. Maybe it had just gotten exaggerated by the media over the course of the day. But by that time I was just so stressed and exhausted by normal things that I just started laughing. Of course there's a murderer still on the loose. Because that's exactly what my day needs.

Not me. But sometimes I feel

the urge to bite my keyboard because

I'm just about to lose it. Well, no.

This lady is batshit ka-razy. But still, you get the point.

This is a really long caption. Mazel tov.

Anyway, it's over now, and I just want to soak in a vat of red wine. But I'll probably just end up cleaning for when Mama Hutch comes to visit tomorrow (YAY!!!) This is not the first time a situation has gotten real at my place of business. When I worked for the Market, there was a major FBI standoff with a shooter at the Federal building one or two blocks away. Then there was a bomb/anthrax scare a few weeks later when I got trapped in the kitchen with the sexy guy from legal. Good times. It also reminded me of the time my dad thought he saw a dead body in the desert but it turned out to be Mexican Drug Dealer's jackets. Just in that I got all riled up for no good reason.

Here is the follow up article on the murderer in case you were curious.

Discrete Gossip Queen Part 2

I'm going to skip the self-flagellation for being such a sporadic blogger (with a name like Sporadic Sporkitudes, you have to expect periods of radio silence in between frantic, Fun Dip fueled rants and lame but lengthy lists). Basically what I've been up to these past few weeks has been just collecting stories. Oh, such stories. Wonderful, weird, so unbelievable that they could only be true, stories. Unfortunately, I can't really share many of them. I don't want to get in trouble. But one of these days, your new favorite prime time 'soapedy' (a phrase I just coined) will be based on the wacky land that is Studio City.

Especially if you are off your nut, balls to the wall, k-k-krazy!

With a population of residents larger than my hometown, there is no end to the hijinks that occur on a daily, no hourly, basis. Especially when that population consists of porn stars, child actors, their stage moms, struggling actors both attractive and not, (also talented and not), wannabe musicians, fading flash in the pan reality sensations, participants in the Witness Protection Program, spoiled rich playboys/girls, and the straight up bat-shit crazy.

Yes, I'm writing it all down. Observing to report later on. If nothing else but for my own amusement. I already had the idea for a show that was based upon the first apartment complex I lived in in Irvine. But Studio City blows that sleepy little college town out of the water and into the stratosphere. I'm actually overwhelmed by what goes on here. It's too much to even fathom at times. Luckily the stress has gone down now that we're not as busy. But there is no shortage of insanity.

So I guess this blog is a bit of a tease, but I will tell you some of the elements you will see in my future, probably never to be written much less produced soapedy:

1. Mistresses featured in major celebrity sex scandals. Yes, that was plural. (and finding out the preferences certain insane celebrities request when choosing their prostitutes).

2. Crazy ladies screaming in gibberish whilst running topless from one of the three gyms on the property.

3. Former one-hit-wonder rap/rock celebrity rehab junkies (the one that climbed the building a few months ago) trashing an apartment and then hearing on the radio the next morning about this person's arrest.

4. Rumors of a meth lab that could explode any moment and discussing whether or not this was a legitimate excuse to evict someone.

5. Residents using the move-in inspection as an excuse to attempt to seduce certain employees (which certain employees claim to have refused, but you never know ; ) )

6. A Russian mob shooting in the parking garage

7. Couple who may or may not be in the Witness Protection Program. (They're not very pleasant. But I guess you wouldn't be either)

8. A big time hip hop artist and producer's daughter's Crip boyfriend dragging her out in the hall by her hair wearing only a bra at the time.

9. A Saudi princess with her own security detail who did nothing but shop for Gucci bags all day.

10. I assisted an 18 year old male model with his very first taxes.

Even the dogs are actors. I met one who had been in multiple episodes of CSI New York among other things.

I'm sure there's more, but I'm just slowly taking it all in. There's years of crazy to sift through and find the juiciest bits.

On an unrelated note, I just found out that Kenneth from 30 Rock frequents the pub down the street where my friends and I went to trivia night the other night! And to think we were stoked to see the kid who played Elliot in E.T.!

Discrete Gossip Queen

I have the world's biggest blabber mouth. If I know something juicy (or even vaguely moist...ew...moist), I have to spill. Unfortunately, I'm not technically allowed to divulge any personal information from my job. And this is Sporadic Sporkitudes, not TMZ, so I have to keep it classy. But things happen and they're so weird/funny/crazy, and I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't tell someone. Because if no one knows about it, it didn't happen. And therefore my entire existence is invalidated. (Blow your mind just now, did I?)

Not actually me. But just so you know

how I feel when I see these things

and think, wow that's super cool

and can't say anything...

So I've decided to let y'all in on some of the wacky hijinks to which I am lucky enough to be privy. Well most aren't really wacky. But they do involve people you might recognize if I were not classy. What follows is the censored version. I won't give any names, any real info other than the situation.

Here is what happened in the past week:

1. A former Playboy model took family pictures out on our lawn.

2. A recurring character on the L Word took a tour of the premises.

3. I reset a password for a girl I recognized from a movie I had just seen on Netflix, as well as an episode of Grey's Anatomy.

4.5. I gave away a former resident/current Laker's parking space to someone else. Oooh exciting, right? But still it was cool to see his name in our system even if I don't follow sports and actively loathe the Lakers and everything this person stands for.

4. A former Nickelodeon star turned legitimate actor marveled at my strength as I lifted his enormous package. (Best compliment ever, "Wow, you're really strong." Darn tootin', former Nickelodeon star. Darn tootin'.) Get your mind out of the gutter. It was a cardboard box, not his penis. But it was really heavy, so be impressed nonetheless.

5. A former rapper/singer for a band that had a one-hit wonder when I was in 7th grade that my mom wouldn't let me sing because she thought it was dirty even though I didn't get the innuendo at the time but now I do (breathes) turned junkie turned Celebrity Rehab reality star turned back into a junkie ("who prefers to smoke rock-cocaine" according to the report) literally scaled several floors of one of our buildings to break into someone's apartment. Now that one I wish I could say his name, because it is the best name EVER. (Hint, it's an alliteration. And I do love me some alliteration)

6. This doesn't involve someone marginally famous, but I did get a call from a new resident asking if I had heard anything about the attempted murder in the parking lot. That one caught me off guard. But nope. No attempted murder. She was misinformed. But still. Weird.

7. And speaking of non-famous people who do weird things, a guy called our front gate to report that his psycho ex-girlfriend was so mad at him she was "pouring orange juice and kool-aid all over the floor." Who does that? I swear, these people may have money, but they crazy.

This is a very strange place. You can basically assume that anyone who walks through the door is in some phase of fame, whether it's child stars with pushy moms obsessed with dog poop, those you can tell probably won't make it, those right on the verge, those who will never make it out of the fringe, and the washed-up has-beens. And if they're not famous, they think they are and you should treat them accordingly. Sigh. Good stories though, even if I can't say everything.

UPDATE: 2/2/11 A sitcom child star is finally grown up to get his own apartment, but still needs his momma by his side. I think if I say the sitcom is based on a certain comedian, it won't give it away too much. Most of them are.