The Professional Squatter

The International Squatter's Symbol

Squatter: A person who settles on land or occupies property without title, right, or payment of rent (Dictionary.com). Indeed. My friend Kellie has run into a problem. She has a squatter. Not just any squatter...A professional squatter, keeping her things in her guest house. It sounds strange, I know, so let me explain.

Gather 'round children, and listen to a story about my friend Kellie. Kellie lives in a house. She works from home, as a graphic artist, writer and photographer. Her landlord is a client of hers. She is in charge of finding roommates to help pay the rent. Kellie recently kicked out some roommates who were not too clean, and didn't know how to take care of their cats. Yikes! The people who moved out, knew someone looking for a place to stay. A woman by the name of Suzanne. Kellie desperately needs roommates so she decided to meet Suzanne. Now children, let me tell you about Suzanne. She is a middle-aged woman, about 5'3" in height, with crusty platinum blonde hair and dark roots. She has what I call a "muffin top". A "muffin top" is what happens when someone is too big to fit into the pants they wear, so they wear them lower on their hips, and the pants are too tight, so their fat sticks out all around their waist, like a muffin top. Yes, Suzanne has a muffin top, people. Not just any ordinary muffin top, oh no. She has the worst kind. She wears tiny tank tops that don't cover her stomach, so all the stomach fat is completely exposed to our eyes. And it hurts to look at it. Anyway, Suzanne told Kellie she wanted to rent the guest house. The guest house is a bedroom with a closet and a bathroom, and a separate entrance from the actual house. She asked if she could pay lower rent in exchange for gardening and maintenance. That sounded fair enough to Kellie. As it turns out, there is a lot Kellie didn't know.

According to California Law, squatters have rights. They have the right to squat and not pay rent if they have done something like gardening or maintenance for the landlord. Ah, but alas, there is a lot Suzanne doesn't know either. The law says that squatters can inhabit an uninhabited piece of property, not one that has people living in it. At least, that's what I've read. Also, a squatter has to prove that they have been sleeping at the place they are squatting and keeping their things.

This woman, Suzanne started doing gardening, and had a garage sale to get rid of some of her things, and hadn't paid rent yet, even though she had already moved her things onto the property. Kellie had loaned Suzanne a bed to put in her room, but Suzanne had never once slept on the property. She would go to her boyfriend's house each night. Suzanne came by the other day when Kellie wasn't home, and changed the locks on the guest house and the shed in the backyard! Without asking. She thinks she knows everything but she doesn't. When Kellie said she couldn't do that, she threatened Kellie, saying she would burn the house down, and all kind of other things. Sounds like Suzanne has lost her marbles, huh? Her boyfriend blocked the driveway with his "rapist van" so Kellie couldn't get out. By the way children, a "rapist van" is a van that is usually white or black in color, although they can be just about any color. Usually, it's a van with two vertical opening doors in the back, and either tinted or no windows at all. Stay away from these vans, they most likely have someone inside who wishes to do you bodily harm! Hence the term, "rapist van". Kellie called the police, very frightened, and of course it took them an hour to get there, and of course they said there was nothing they could do. They told Kellie not to touch Suzanne's things, but they told Suzanne to leave for the night. That's when Jason and I got a call from Kellie.

The next day, Jason and I went to Kellie's house. Kellie informed us that she had called a detective. The detective asked what the woman's name was, and when she told him, he knew who she was! We thought that was weird, but it wasn't. She is a known squatter, and of course, quite the drug addict. Makes sense. The detective said he was on his way. About 20 minutes later, he and his partner arrived at the house. Children, I would like to introduce you to the detectives. A burly, tall, black man, with a .45 strapped to his waist. His partner, a shorter, Hispanic man, with a suit coat on. Very nice men, both of them. They asked questions, and talked to the neighbors who were able to attest to the fact that Suzanne had never once slept at the house. Since Susanne isn't as smart as she thinks she is, she didn't realize that she should've found a way to lock the windows to the room too, and she could've put a much sturdier lock on the shed, if she didn't want anyone getting in. The detectives advised Kellie to take pictures of all of Suzanne's things where they were, and to move all of her things out of the room and shed onto the back patio, and take pictures of it all out there. Those wonderful men, who have higher authority over the police, what with knowing all the laws and stuff, well, they saved Kellie that day.

As soon as they left, we got to work. We broke in through the window of the room and opened the door to find the most random things a person could ever supposedly want. Basically, it was obvious that most of her things were stolen. There were kid's toys, because she had said she was a part time nanny, there were crystal bowls and many other items that looked like they belonged to an elderly woman, which was because she supposedly also took care of old people...from whom she stole things I guess...Anyway, there were golf clubs and speakers, old lady outfits, phonics help books, like 4 different vanities, just all kinds of crap.  Same thing with the shed.  We broke in rather easily, since the lock was practically falling off anyway, and found many more strange items.  We carefully started taking everything and putting it out on the patio, hoping that Suzanne wouldn't happen to show up with her boyfriend while we were doing this. It's all about teamwork, children.  You can get so much more accomplished, much faster with the use of teamwork.  We were like a well-oiled machine.  Passing things to each other, organizing them properly outside.  It didn't take us too long, and Kellie put a note that the detective left for Suzanne up on the door to the guest house.  The note basically informed Suzanne that he knew about her being there, and that it would be best if she didn't cause any trouble, and just take her things and leave.  He signed it with his name, because she had had many encounters with him already, and he hoped that upon just seeing his name, she would reconsider her actions and threats.  We then also changed the locks.  Not only to the guest room and shed, but to the entire house.  The was quite an ordeal, because they were tough to make fit in the doors, and we worked at that task for hours.  So much for the well-oiled machine...Jason and I were on the brink of fighting about how to get the locks to work, and Kellie couldn't get hers to work either.  Now children, it's imperative that you understand it's not right to argue when trying to finish a task.  It makes things much harder on everyone involved.  Around dusk, we finally got the locks installed properly.

The detectives had also told Kellie that after putting her things outside and changing the locks, she should call or text Suzanne telling her what went on and that the detective had been there and said hello.  Sure enough, when she got the next call from Suzanne, she was as nice as she could be!  She informed Kellie she would be coming to get her things in a day or so.  From what I understand, she packed up almost all of her things and said she would be back to get the last of it later.  I believe there are still a few things there that Kellie is storing outside, and if they get ruined, well it's Suzanne's loss, not hers.  She hasn't heard from her since. 

Well kiddies, Kellie's squatter story is coming to an end.  This whole thing was a little unnerving, knowing that almost anyone can walk up to your house and decide they want to stay there, and actually DO it.  They even have website for professional squatters!  They tell you all about what your rights are, and what to do when someone tries to kick you out!  What in the hell is this world coming to for God's sake?  Overall, I am glad we were able to help Kellie, and none of us got our asses kicked by weirdos.  Ah, the crazy people we attract...It's like a running gag now...But so far, she is living happily ever after?  I guess we are too?  Whatever...

FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!! What is this??? Butt Fuck Road?? Judas Priest!!

Jason's Dad, being silly.

Ah yes....dads...Aren't they colorful with their language?  My roommate/best friend Neil, and my boyfriend, Jason, and I all have dads with extremely explosive tempers.  They all come from the generation that disciplines children in public, they have no shame in embarrassing their kids whenever they go out, by getting angry at the smallest thing, and showing their anger for all to see.  And it's not just regular anger, it's like all the curse words of the world unite at once in their mouths and come out with a vengeance.  Here are a few random stories about their rage.

Rick Wade:
Jason's father.  A cowboy at heart, average height, with a big, brown, fluffy mustache.  He likes to wear Wranglers and cowboy boots with Hawaiian shirts...

Rick's choice phrase is "Judas Priest!".  Judas Priest are a Grammy Award winning English heavy metal band from Birmingham, formed in 1968.  Why he uses this name as a forceful tactic to show that he is perturbed, no one knows.  It could be at the most random moment when he's upset, although he also uses this choice phrase when he thinks something is funny.  When Jason told me about the whole Judas Priest thing, I wasn't sure I believed it.  Then we went to visit his family in Colorado...We were outside having a family barbecue, and we started telling jokes.  I am not usually very good at getting to the punch-line of jokes, but I decided to try one out. 
Me: "So a guy dies and goes to Hell.  He meets with the Devil and the Devil starts to take him on a tour of the fiery underworld.  He tells the guy he has to choose one form of torture to go through for all of eternity.  He takes him all over and there are people getting burned, stretched, poked, all kinds of awful things.  Then they come across one room where there is a group of people standing waist deep in shit, drinking coffee.  The guy thinks, hey that can't be too bad, just standing in shit drinking coffee all day.  So he tells the Devil he wants that one.  The Devils says ok, and the guy gets into the shit, and gets his first cup of coffee.  Less than 5 minutes later, the Devil comes back and says, 'Ok assholes, coffee break's over!  Back on your heads!'"

Without missing a beat, everyone laughed, which I thought was cool because I actually told a joke right, (thanks to MY dad for telling me that one) and then it happened.  Rick Wade laughed out loud and said, "Ah Judas Priest that's funny!"  It was great.  I told him that I was happy to finally get the chance to hear him say it, and Jason said his "I told you so!" and his dad laughed because he never admits to saying his famous phrase.  Every time I see him, and we bring it up, he will say with a smile, "What?  I don't say that.  You guys don't know what you're talking about."  He is awesome.

Neil Wilson II:
Neil's father.  A white man whose mannerisms and speech could make anyone believe he is black if they weren't looking at him while he talks.  Quite a tall man, with curly grey hair.  He plays the bongos and used to jam with Santana.  Hells yeah, mo fo, he is the real deal an' shit.  Neil's dad is one man who does not care whom he curses in front of, and will take his rage from 0 to 10 in mere seconds...

My best friend recalls one late night he was in the car with his father.  Neil Wilson II was tired, probably from working and whatnot.  Young Neil's mother asked her husband if he could go to Jack in the Box and get her a special burger that she liked, and young Neil said he would like something too, so he would go with his dad.  Things were fine and dandy as they drove down the street to the fast food establishment.  They pulled into the drive-thru, and started ordering.  Little Neil ordered what he wanted, and so did his dad, and then dad ordered for mom.  The voice over the loud speaker said, "Sorry we don't have that anymore."  And there they were, at zero, then suddenly at 10.  A crazed look came across Neil Sr.'s face.  Then into the the loud speaker he yelled, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!" and he carried it on all through the drive-thru as he sped off.  He didn't stop to get any food, and as they raced through the drive-thru, young Neil could see the horrified look on people's faces, wondering what this old guy's problem was.  Neil sunk down in his seat, hoping not to be seen.  Needless to say they just went home.

James Gragg:
My father.  The king of all bad words.  A former hippie, who escaped his home life by riding freight trains with friends.  He is average in height, with reddish hair and freckles.  He too, gets mad very quickly and doesn't care who sees or hears it.  It could happen anytime, anywhere.  Whether he's fixing something or playing a video game.  (Yes my dad plays video games on Xbox 360).

One time, when I was a little younger, although not much, I think I was in high school or even college, I remember a phrase my dad used, and I will never forget it.  It was quite random, and I've never heard it since.  He was driving, and we were trying to find something, I don't remember what, but it was kind of important I suppose.  We were out on highway 59, and anyone who knows Merced knows that the highway was mostly fields and cement, concrete or gravel/sand companies, with a few houses scattered here and there.  My dad was getting agitated.  We were looking for a road that we had to turn onto, and we weren't finding it.  He started muttering curses under his breath like "Son of a bitch" and "God Dammit".  I told him to calm down, we would find it.  We saw a road coming up on the right.  My dad decided to make the turn onto it.  It wasn't what we wanted.  It was a dirt road!  My dad was mad not only because it wasn't the right road, but he also HATES driving his car on dirt roads.  He is very particular about scratches and dents and dirt getting on the car, and dirt roads can fuck a car up.  So as usual, out of nowhere, my dad got so angry, that as he was flipping a U-turn to get back onto the main road, he shouted, "WHAT IS THIS??  BUTT-FUCK ROAD??"  I'll let you all take that one in for a moment...I can't talk about it or even write about it without laughing my ass off.  Like, really dad?  What the hell does that even mean?  At the time I remained silent, because I knew if I said anything it would just make the situation worse.  Later I made fun of him for it like crazy, and he swears like Jason's dad, that he has no recollection of saying it.  Wow.

My dad...driving...hold on to your hats.

Anyway, I am sure I will write another blog soon about more things that our dads say in fits of anger, because there are plenty more stories to tell.  I just love the fact that me, Jason and Neil all have dads that get angry so fast, and we can share our stories.  And they wonder why we all cuss like sailors.  Dads say the darnedest things...

Top center: Rick wade
Bottom right: James Gragg
Sadly I don't have any pics of Neil's dad.  I will post one when I get one.

"I just made out with a Mexican painter..."

Do you ever feel like you just happen to attract all the crazy people in the world? I mean, like the real psychos. I feel like I do, for sure. The following are the true accounts of my encounters with the crazy woman that lives in my apartment building.

It was a relaxing day at the pool for my roommate, Neil and I...At first. We were swimming, and being silly in the pool. We tend to act like children in the pool, and I guess it's because we are just so happy to have a pool that we get lost in our childhood love for the water. Either way, we were splashing around, making the usual amount of noise you would hear at a pool, nothing to loud or crazy.

Intro: The Blonde Bombshell. That's what I call her. A woman who lives down the hall from us, with blonde hair, quite the chubby figure, and a need to wear way too much perfume. She also likes to wear outfits that do not belong on someone of her size, like, short summer dresses, and wedge heels. Since the day we moved in, I knew something was off about her, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was exactly. The day at the pool gave me quite a glimpse as to what it is.

So Neil and I were swimming, as I said. The Blonde Bombshell came out to sit on one of the lounge chairs and started talking to Neil. I tried to ignore her, but Neil is such a nice person, that he will listen to anyone talk forever...She proceeded to tell him that he was so skinny that he looked sick. She asked him numerous times why he is so skinny. I've noticed that she will ask inappropriate questions like a child would, and tends to ask you "why?" on everything that you say. So Neil politely said he didn't think he was that skinny, and on that all went for a few minutes. Then randomly, after sitting on the chair watching us swim and talk for what seemed like forever, she got up and started walking to the apartment building entrance. As she walked toward the door she said vehemently to us, "You guys should really keep the noise down, your voices really carry and people can hear everything you're saying." Now, I am the kind of person that when told to do or not to do something that someone has no authority over, gets very angry very fast, and will in turn do that thing they say not to even more. So I said, "Well, it's not nighttime, so we have every right to talk, considering we are not being excessively loud." She said, "Why don't you guys just relax instead of splashing around so much?" I said, "Well we don't have to just because you told us to, so byeeeee!" And with that, she flounced toward the door and said nothing else. The few other people out in the pool area looked at us like, wow what was her problem? And we couldn't help but laugh at the situation. Of course Neil and I continued on with our splashing and talking.

About a week later, I had my good friend, Belle, over to swim with Neil and I. Things once again started out normal, and we were having a fine time, swimming and laughing. Suddenly, the Blonde Bomshell appeared. She seriously must have been waiting for someone to come out to the pool, so she could come downstairs and talk with them, or make their lives hell...She promptly said hello and asked us all our names. Neil and Belle answered with their names, and I just said, "Grace." I didn't want her to know my real name. She told us her name is Stephanie and started blabbing on about random things, and we all decided that we should just go back up the apartment, because we didn't want to deal with it. We said we had to go, and left the area. About 20 minutes later, we really wanted to get back in the pool so we snuck downstairs again to see if she was still there. She wasn't, so we got back in the pool. And wouldn't you know it, like clockwork, she was right back down there as soon as she heard us outside again...

"I just made out with a Mexican painter on the 3rd floor!" Yes, people, that's what she said as soon as she came outside. Um, ok... "I don't even know his name but I just walked up to him while he was painting one of the apartments.." It was so random that it was hard not to laugh. We all just kind of shrugged and let the moment pass. Stephanie then asked us what we all do for a living, and we just told her we are actors, and she went through her series of "Why?" questions, and when it got quiet again she looked at Belle and said, "If you're an actress you should lose some weight because you won't get any jobs looking like that." What the fuck did she just say?? As if SHE is skinny and pretty? Are you fucking kidding me? Neil and I immediately told her that it was not a nice thing for her to say which she basically ignored. In hopes that she would soon leave, we stayed in the pool while listening to her talk about her ex, who was Middle Eastern, and how he cheated on her, and how she was on disability leave from her job with Delta Airlines and blah blah blah...Once again, out of nowhere, Stephanie targeted Belle. She stopped smiling, looked at her as if extremely angry and said, "Did you cheat with my ex? 'Cause if you did, I would kill you. Seriously. I would kill you." Ok, shit was starting to seemingly get a little out of hand. We all looked stunned I'm sure. I remember saying something about the fact that it was really not cool that she would even think of saying something like that especially since Belle didn't even know her ex, and we once again decided to leave the pool area. She acted as though nothing had even happened, and as we gathered our things and made our way to the door, she followed us! We were a little uneasy as she hurried to catch up with us, not knowing what she was going to do. As we got into the lobby, a man in a wheelchair was waiting for the elevator. With no regard for this man, Stephanie said loudly, "That guy right there is handicapped!" Talk about random. At this point, I am thinking, oh my God, why us? Why do we have to be stuck near such a crazy person? Needless to say, we took the stairs...

The next week I went to complain to the landlord. I explained that we were uncomfortable with the things she was saying to us, and that she constantly followed us outside every time we went swimming. The landlord explained that The Blonde Bombshell has lived in this building for almost 20 years, and has mental instabilities. She also said that she's had many complaints over the years and the police have been called SEVERAL times! When they take her away, they don't take her to jail, just an institution, but they can only hold her for a couple days of course. The landlord said she would kick her out but Stephanie has nowhere to go. No family, no friends, nothing. She said that everyone who has lived here for a while knows this, and it's usually the newer tenants who complain because they don't know her. She supposedly was switching medications or psychologists and was apparently having a rough time, and that's why she was acting so weird. The landlord explained that we should do our best to ignore Stephanie because she is not harmful, and if you listen to her crap, she will latch onto you and show up at your apartment at all hours to talk...Oh my. Overall the landlord feels bad for her. That makes sense but geez, we all have to go through dealing with her mood swings and shit? Great. Just fucking great.