be my bitch

dog
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

several years ago i took a road trip across the states. while in new orleans, we somehow locked all sets of car keys in the trunk. we looked up a locksmith and got towed off to a sketchy part of town.

while my boyfriend negotiated some kind of trunk-opening deal, a relatively-insane passerby tried to pick me up.

"no thanks. we're on our way out of town. leaving," i politely declined.

he approached, with hands outstretched. "c'mon baby," he motioned with his head. "come with me. i'll show you what's what."

"no, thanks. thanks though."

psssss he hissed while turning on his heal. "you be on your way. i don't need no psycho biiiiiiitch!"

i looked at my then boyfriend and, while pointing to myself and nodding, mouthed the words psycho bitch...


i currently own a small condo which i rent out. the tenants, all female so far, have been incredibly easy-going and considerate.

i was contacted last december by a “new york filmmaker”. he visited my place with his team of producers. they stated a long list of prerequisites necessary for the living requirements. somehow i met that list because they called that night, wanting to seal the deal.

i let roman (real name) move in because he threw scads of money at me.

the day he moved in he informed me that his backers weren't happy that i didn't prorate the first two days of december. "it's the third you know."

i sensed were off to a bad start.

a week or so into roman’s stay, i got a call at 7:30 one evening. he was screaming that a window had come off its hinges, and that he was freezing to death.

"you are going to find me dead on your floor. frozen! buy me a hotel room!"

"don't be dramatic," i replied.

"what! i'm freezing right now. i will be dead in a few hours."

"it's 8 at night. what do you want me to do? call the fire department? do you want them to rescue you like a kitten in a tree? i'll be over in 15 minutes to fix it."

"you (he meant a woman) cannot fix this. it's very broken."

when i showed up to fix the window, he continued to gripe about the purchasing of hotel rooms. i tinkered with the mechanism, and closed the window.

"roman, when you put the handle in the upward position, the window opens from the top. when you put it in the other position, it will open from the side."

"do not speak to me like i'm a child."

"i'm not. i'm showing you how things work, so you don't break them," i motioned to the wall where picture frames used to hang.

"you think i'm a fool."

"how's the heat? is it too hot?" this was another one of his issues.

"i don't know. i don't understand the temperature." he replied.

"i changed it to celsius for you last time. so you could understand."

"i don't understand."

"well, how do you feel? do you feel too warm?" my patience waned.

"i feel abandoned."

i grabbed my jacket and waved goodbye as i walked out the door.

there were several other similar incidents regarding the washing machine, the internet, the telephone, and how to make the water hot in the shower.

around christmas, roman informed me that he was going out of town and that i would have to be available from 9-5 to meet the internet guy. "the backers aren't happy that i lost money on the market. i have to go to new york to speak to them."

he returned a few weeks later.

"i have to give you notice, krista. the backers want me back in new york. they're not going to fund my documentary."


the image is funny to me - a burly, oafish 50-year old man answering to the purse stings of a team of whiny, skinny control freaks.

i gladly accepted his short notice.

i guess we're all somebody's bitch. it just depends how psycho we’re going to be about it.