Free It's So Hard To Type With A Gun In My Mouth by Steve Bluestein

fabric on the walls? This place is fabulous."  "Yah?"  I'm like, "Hello what has this got to do with Sodom and Gomorrah next door."  "So how do you get the fabric to stick.", the first officer questions like Joe Friday. And the second excitedly adds, "I could do this in my den." And I'm thinking "Why can't they just beat me like Rodney King". They want to know where I got the sofas, who did the painting, where I got my windows... who's a better design station HGTV or PBS. I'm thinking, "Should I reach for their gun?" 
     
    So they leave.... with swatches... to show their "wives". Yah right. They probably have an apartment in the Castro. And I'm still left with the Vern problem. I want nothing to do with him. Not because he's gay, but because he's a creep. He's a gay creep. Why couldn't he be hip like Elton John?  Why couldn't Elton John move in next door to me in Northridge? Why, because he'd rather have a steel wool enema.  So I'm stuck with Nell's gay Barney Fife.
     
    I call my carpenter and he comes over the next day. "Don, I want you to build a fuck you fence."   And I describe an eight-foot fence, the unfinished side facing Vern's house, with space on the top for vines and gun turrets.  Don is a master carpenter and builds the fence in four days. It's a beauty... my own personal Berlin Wall.
     
    Now I go to my favorite place Home Depot... where, "You can do and we don't give a shit." I grab a guy in the garden department and this is what I say verbatim.  "I want a very invasive vine, something that goes deep and fucks up the plumbing. It should spread like wildfire and drop lots of flowers and berries. I want it deciduous so it drops leaves in the fall... and I want six of them." The guy looks at me like I'm crazy and then says..."Are you building a fuck you fence?" I nod. " I got just the thing."
     
    He sells me these plants that come with magic beans. I get the plants home and couldn't wait to put them in the ground. I bought Vigaro to make sure they took off. And take off they did. I've never seen anything like it in my life. I expected Jack to come down the stalk chased by the giant.  This thing covered the fence, the sidewalk, the gate, his roof, his car and the cabana boy. It was a joy to behold.  Six weeks later I put my house up for sale.
     
    In escrow I left specific instructions on how to water the vine and when. Moral of the story... never... ever... throw a brick through my window.
     
    March 11, 2006 - JUANITA, THE HOMICIDAL HOUSEKEEPER  
     
    I've decided to tell you about Juanita, the homicidal housekeeper and then enter the witness protection program.  Before I begin I want to make myself perfectly clear. She is legal. She has her papers, she is a citizen... get off my ass. (Not that I'm paranoid but I know there's someone in Arizona reading this going, " Ah huh... hiring illegals, huh!")
     
    I cannot clean this house alone. I don't want to clean this house alone. I don't want to clean, period.  I'm pretty anal and very organized but I won't clean and can't cook, basically I'm a waste of skin. Besides, this house is huge... like an airport terminal and there are four flights of stairs. My friends say..."It's not a house...it's a building".  And I have a lot of crap too...lots. I have Goodwill on speed dial.  I can't clean this shit, I need someone in charge who can handle it...  someone who's strong and more organized than I... someone like Maria. A single mother, who waded across the Rio Grande, to find opportunity in our country and ended up cleaning my sock drawer.  I'm going to rot in hell, I know.
     
    Before we talk about Juanita, you need to know about Maria, the first housekeeper. I loved Maria but she dusted with a hammer.  Before she would come over to clean, I would just break four things and cut down on her workload. I have never seen a woman like her in my life.  I would be in my office and suddenly I would hear this tremendous crash, like a plate glass truck just