Ocho Guapo

Well, let me first catch my breath. Did I just run up the stairs? No. Am I scared since YET ANOTHER knock has arrived upon my door? No. Did I get to "meet" Ocho, our neighbor? YES.

I use the term "meet" lightly. This is New York. Our doors were both open at the same time and I got a decent glimpse of him and his roommate, Ocho Dos?

First, I will discuss how we were put in this situation. And later we will all express our appreciation for the picture window peephole.

For some reason I felt compelled to toss on a ratty t-shirt and pair of jeans after Zane left today. That, compared to staying in my jammies until 3 in the afternoon like every other day. I must have sensed what was about to happen. Because just as Hoda and KLG were blabbing about how Kathy Lee thinks she looks like Sandra Bullock (ahem, really Kathy Lee??) *Knock Knock!*

Slightly embarrassed that The Crappy Hour of Today was playing, I saw my new friend the super through the peephole.

Sidenote: The other evening, before any of the boys were home, I got a knock on the door. I looked out the hole and this little old homeless looking man was on the other side. "Super!" he said. And I thought "likely story homeless man, you ain't gettin' in THIS place" I said (through a very locked door) "Can I help you?" and he explained he was there to fix a window. After about 5 minutes of interrogation he said enough information about my roommate and our window issue that I figured he's either a smart homeless man trying to rob me, or maybe our window was really going to get fixed finally! As I finally opened the door, he said "feel free to call Edmoney to check on me" and I found it odd that he keeps up with our blog... Either way, he let me stay by the propped open door ready for immediate escape at the first sign of insubordination. He must have thought I was insane. I'd like to think I'm "City Smart."

Okay, so back to earlier today. A knock, I look out the peeping window. There's that darn little homeless man again. We'll call him "Super Joe." I guess we're pals now since he brought a friend with him. The JP Morgan guy. With a camera. I guess for insurance purposes they take photos of the places to make sure they are up to speed.

So Mr. JP was next door snapping away and Super Joe just wanted me to have a head's up that I was next (and last). Super Joe is lookin out for a sister because he also took the time to tell me all about Ocho (who was standing right there) in his little jammie shorts and tank... ahem.

So Super Joe is just standing in the hall telling me about how ripped Ocho and Ocho Dos have to keep their abs, I believe the term "8 pack" was used. Oooh, Ocho, 8 pack? Serendipitous or just hot? I just thought he was verbally assaulting the two 30 somethings next door, but turns out they are male models.

It makes sense now that Edmoney would volunteer to haul his crap up so many floors just so he can catch an occasional glimpse of two male hotties with bodies. Smaaaaart.

So, here I am just nodding along as Super Joe sings the physical praises of Ocho and Ocho Dos, hanging on his every word for yet another tidbit of their daily sexy regime. I made Super Joe promise not to tell Z about these discoveries so Shhhhhh!

After such star treatment of our studly floormates, I expected when it was my turn that Super Joe would do his duty of explaining how friggin hot I was to Ocho and Ocho Dos. Super Joe told the camera man to take pics of our model friends in addition to their cracked sheetrock. When Mr. JP finally made his way to my place he felt uncomfortably forced to ask "So, are you a model too?"

Sir. Don't patronize me. I am wearing a dirty boy's undershirt and $8 jeans. My hair is in a sloppy braid and I am watching Hoda and Kathy Lee.

I gave my best model smile and said "What do you think?" He lowered his head and mumbled something incoherent then gave an uncomfortable polite smile and said in the first grade encouraging tone "Um, sure you could!" I won overall because he complimented me on how nice we've arranged our place and how clean it was. So take THAT Ocho Guapo, I may not have a washboard stomach but at least I know how to use a washboard.

Just kidding, no hard feelings neighbormen. I'll be quietly observing you from my stalker peephole from now on.

Wait. So THAT'S why they had so many bags when they moved in! And THAT'S why they couldn't read the number on the door! (ooooh burn!) HOLD THE PHONE! Let's all refer back to my blog earlier last week when I jokingly said "would they move in here if I had opened my door"!!!

Stupid stupid stupid. Next time, I promise to answer.