I’ve been around Glendale, a safe, clean, family-friendly neighborhood made up of 113 residential lots bordering Glendale Park, long enough to know how things work. Sure, I’ll admit it: Back in 1991, when I first joined the Glendale Homeowners Association, I was pretty naïve. I thought that if I just showed enough ambition and volunteered for enough litter drives, I’d rise to the top and be on the GHA board of directors in no time.
Let’s just say I grew up real fast.
For nearly five years, I’ve been wasting away as co-chair of the Glendale Community Events Committee, organizing Easter egg hunts, visits from Santa and crap like that, while that ho-bag Judith Meyers gets promoted to chair of the Budget & Finance Committee right before my eyes. Everybody knows that position is a direct stepping stone to the board’s treasurer position. Bitch.
It’s now apparent that there’s only one way to make that board, and I’m prepared to do it. I want this too bad not to. I’m going to blow who I have to blow, and fuck who I have to fuck. You’ve got to grease the wheel, they say, and I’m going to grease it ’til it can’t be greased no more.
I’ve drawn up a short list of exactly who Denise Brodhagen needs to screw. I’ve been watching closely, and I know who the puppets are and who the real power players are around the GHA. I know just whose permanent-press slacks I need to get my hands into. Erwin Lansley on the Landscape & Facilities Management Committee, I’m ready and willing. Noise-control supervisor Melvin Haas, just tell me how you want it: missionary or doggie-style, rough or gentle, bed or kitchen counter. Election-committee coordinator Gordon Yeager, my legs are spread wide.
I’ve already proven what I’m capable of by singlehandedly drafting the new garbage-collection resolution. Does this ring a bell? “Refuse containers not in use must be stored inside or behind the house and must not be visible from the street. Only garbage cans with lids or strong plastic garbage bags may be used and may not be placed curbside before dusk the night before pick-up”? Well, it should, because thanks to me, it’s now a by-law of the GHA. Before I came on the scene, people on Sherman Avenue were putting trash out in paper shopping bags, and squirrels were getting into them and getting the trash all over the street.
I could do even more if I were just given the chance. If made a board officer, I wouldn’t veto the plans to refurbish the Lathrop Park ice-hockey rink just to put money into the contingency fund. And I’d find a way to get Mrs. Hammaker to finally remove those awful ceramic gnomes from her front lawn. With me at the helm, property values in our neighborhood would skyrocket. I’d be made GHA Homeowner Of The Year, and then what? The school board? City council? The sky’s the limit. I’ve just got to start fucking and sucking.
I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m going to use my tits and ass to my advantage, because it’s apparent that talent alone isn’t going to cut it. And I’m ready to start: After next Friday’s meeting, I’m going to make GHA Vice-President Bob Voskuil an offer he can’t refuse.
I can picture it already. My first act as a board member will be to propose an administrative resolution permitting residents to install rain gutters or other functional external adornments without first filing an “Approval Of Alterations & Additions To Existing Structures” form with the GHA, so long as the structural modifications adhere to standard specifications set by the Architectural Control Committee.
But first I’ve got to get on that board, baby.
