12-16-01 - 8:16 a.m.
my psychotic neighbor mimi invited me over to see her christmas tree. trust me, "psychotic" is not used loosely here. we're talking thorazine and straight jackets. we're talking a woman who drove her boyfriend to jump off the golden gate bridge. she is a walking history of mental institutions and shrinks. i sometimes wonder why she's loose, and why her mother chose to buy the place next door and install mimi there. nevertheless, for a scary pain in the ass whose entire life revolves around her next trip to the corner market for caffeine and cigarettes, mimi can often be lovable. like last night, showing off her tiny fake tree with the glee of a six year old. i even gave her a present to put under it; a set of pewter picture frames for mitzi. mitzi is a mean cat the size of a pit bull, and the center of mimi's existence, unless of course you factor in the caffeine and cigs. mimi showed me a gift from "bob", someone she knew in a psych ward in mountain view. it was one of those aromatheraphy beauty kits, complete with a purple sleep mask and pillow mist. i helpfully sprayed mimi and mitzi's pillows with the mist and had to see david's shrine again. david, who left his heart in san francisco bay, literally. he looked amazingly like tom hanks. (there's a movie there, but i haven't figured out how to cast mimi. think linda hunt, with missing teeth and a voice like gilbert gottfried.) anyway, mimi decided she couldn't use the soothing massage oil and gave it to me. "use it on patrick," she said, and then asked me again if patrick is a good fuck. this is a daily question, usually shouted from her porch as i pull into my driveway. what can i say? she's a hopeless romantic.