The first time I met Helga, I was holding her hair as she puked into her toilet. I was also drunk, so I assumed she was getting too much into the Thanksgiving festivities. (Drinking over the Thanksgiving holiday is a major event here in Chicago, FYI. It�s said that the Wednesday night before Turkey day is the biggest party day of the year.)

I assumed incorrectly.

It seems that Helga has a problem with her alcohol consumption. Whenever she has alcohol is her presence, she overdoes it and acts like an ass. Her sister is quite vocal about how much she dislikes Helga�s drinking, and two nights ago things came to a head.

Because our building�s elevators are being renovated and the management knows how pissed we are, they�re providing appetizers and wine each day in the lobby to make our long waits for the freight elevator up to us. I came home a little late that night, grabbed a glass of wine and ate a little avocado with blue corn tortilla chips while waiting for the elevator. I walked around the corner to check my mail, and I saw Helga in the office, wine glass in-hand, and talking with the rental agent. I know when Helga gets home, so she had apparently been there a while.

I was cooking community dinner in Yasemin and Helga�s house when Helga finally came up to the house -- well after 8:00. She walked in, gave an exaggerated greeting to everyone, walked into the kitchen and smacked my ass.

There was once this time that Helga exclaimed that she loved me and thought I was precious, and she leaned to kiss my cheek. I shrieked, �Don�t touch my face!� in one of those �MY BODY! MY BODY!� tones that they teach you in preschool when talking about �good touch� and �bad touch�.

Many of my friends are allowed to smack my ass. It�s usually not a big deal. But if you aren�t established as that kind of friend of mine, it�s probably best to keep your hands to yourself. That, coupled with the previous �bad touch� conversation, made me very uncomfortable. I gave a concerned look to Yasemin who started into her sister in their native language.

Helga turns to me and says, �Jsho-anna. (NOTE: This is how she says my name in her accent.) You do not like me? Why you talk to my back? Tell me to my face.�

I shoot her a, �Huh?� and she goes ape shit on me about what a bad friend I am. How could I talk about her? How could I betray her after how nice she�s been to me? What kind of horrible person am I? Etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseum.

I calmly say that like her sister and everyone else, I don�t like her when she drinks. She�s obnoxious, offensive, and has no bearing on her actions when she drinks.

She calmed down, and the six of us ate our meal in relative peace. After eating four platefuls of dinner, she started back into me, and I told her in some very unladylike language that she needed to back the fuck off and take herself a nap to rid her of the booze.

Naturally, she didn�t take this too well and ended up leaving to meet another friend. Stories now tell me that she was bawled out equally by this friend when she was seeking comfort and to hear what a horrid beast I was for saying that she was an awful drunk. This conversation lead her to knock on my door.

�Jsho-anna. Can I come in?�

�No.�

�Just for two minutes.�

I cracked the door and she pushed her way in.

She started back into me. I would have no part in this, so I opened the door and told her to leave. No sooner did she make it back into her apartment did she start calling my cell phone. I let voicemail pick it up, and then I transcribed the phone messages for your reading pleasure.

This is verbatim -- Enjoy!

So, Jsho-anna this is Helga. You know what. I am very nice, and if you cannot tell in my face, but, you know, I don�t like talking about people�s back. I can tell people in their face. If you ever bothering me or talking about me (long pause)...

Hi Jsho-anna. You can have your scale back. I had a call waiting that�s why I cut off the other message. You know what. I don�t need your friendship or anything regarding to you or anything regarding to listen to my sister about you. Okay. I have enough problems with her but it�s not related to you. Okay. If you want to tell me in my face you can. If you want to write email, I don�t care also. Stay away from me. I did not kiss your ass. Okay. I don�t care how nice you are. I was very nice to you. Whatever. I am not going to discuss with you this. STAY AWAY FROM ME AND MY SISTER. Do you understand? Okay. This is my last email, and I never leave a message like this. I am the one who introduce you to Thom or whatever mistakes I did it�s none of your business. You have two neighbors they are not talking to you, that has to tell you something about it. And if you want to tell me in my face, tell it. If not, GO TO HELL.

Sidenote: Click back one entry to read the email I wrote to Herbie to understand her mention of two neighbors not talking with me. Do note that I�m the one saying that I do not want contact with Herbie. Shit, after reading that, you probably wouldn�t want contact with him either.

I ran into Yasemin at Nordstrom�s Rack yesterday, and we got a good laugh out of it. We�ll see how Helga handles seeing me around. I look forward to telling you more as the situation progresses.

Have a great weekend!�