Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Best. Homeowners Association. Ever.

Okay, so I live in a kind of dumpy, late-70's condo building with 10 units. Under ordinary circumstances I might find such an earnest assessment of my living conditions sort of depressing, but right now I am completely aglow with intense love of my condo association.

Technically, all 10 unit owners are part of the association, but here I am referring to the "active" association, i.e. the five of us who show up to (and get drunk at) the annual meetings. The best part about having only 5 people willing to spend two hours a year to meet to make sure our homes don't spontaneously collapse is that everyone gets a fancy title; I am the "secretary", the lady across the hall is the Vice President, the lady next door is the Treasurer, and the lady across from her is the President (floor 2 totally represents). The fifth member of our Active Association Gang is an elderly woman that lives on the ground level and complains about everything. Since we were tossing titles around willy-nilly, I suggested that she be "supreme chancellor". Everyone laughed, ha ha ha, but really I get the last laugh because I put it as official business in the meeting notes (being secretary rules for exactly this reason only).

Our annual meetings are held at a bar up the street. It would be natural to assume that this would be the nearest bar to our building, but by assuming this you are making an Ass out of U and Ming. Oh no, we can't meet at the bar ten feet away from our building; we have to trudge another 2 blocks to a different bar, and the reason will be made clear in this chart of discussion topics during the "first drink" period of our meeting:

Most of the complaining about the bar next door came from Supreme Chancellor, who just would not let it go that people like to smoke on the patio and how loud it is when they recycle the glass bottles and how she has chronic pain in her ankles and also how once this woman had a birthday party at the bar and kept yelling stuff and how it takes like an hour for the cops to show up and sometimes they don't show up at all and that she once counted over a hundred cigarette butts in our driveway. Most of the complaining about the apartment building next door came from VP who just can't figure out how a six-unit building can produce so many broken TVs and mattresses that end up on the sidewalk (personally, I am fascinated by this). Also, this dude lives in a bus that is sometimes parked across the street, and evidently this is just not acceptable and we are encouraged to actively enforce the 72-hour street parking rule as it applies to this bus and the creepy station wagon only.

Drinky-drink, round 2:

Apparently the yard waste people sometimes forget to pick up the bins. Also, Prez is pretty sure she saw someone shooting up at the bar next door once. The reason that the woman from the 3rd floor is having a tough time selling her unit is that she has poor color coordination skills. Oh, and cats are adorable and sweet and are like little furry alarm clocks.

Round 3 was delivered by our waitress who wears too much makeup, according to Supreme Chancellor:

Supreme Chancellor hobbled off to the bathroom, FINALLY allowing Prez and VP the opportunity to complain about she complains so much. Also, Obama's voice is very pleasing to listen to. But the real gold from this round? Check out this gossip:

The lady who lives next to Supreme Chancellor is pregnant! [GASP]
One of the dudes on the 3rd floor just got fired! [GASP]
VP is pretty sure the guy who is always working on his car is gay! [GASP]

HOLY CRAP! Is this for serious?! Is this a condo association or a soap opera? Am I seriously the normal one around here?

Best part of the evening: Drinks and dinner paid for by the Association, meaning half of our bill was funded by the very people we so ferverishly gossiped about. Life is SO fair.

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