This story has no actual linked connection to the story in July 2011, The Devil Slept In My Bed, and thus a link is added by the author.
On my to do list lately has been to address Curtiss Parker, of the Wakabayashi Fund and the Parker family (see mother Patricia Zinsmeister Parker), and formerly Managing Director of Bear Sterns Co. (and prior to Bear Sterns, Mr. Parker was associated with the Boston Group, Donaldson, Lufkin & Jenrette and Lehman Brothers).
Curtiss Parker also happens to be my upstairs neighbor at good ol’ 6767 Neptune Place, La Jolla, California 92037. If you want to write him, he’s in unit #16.
The first day I met Curtiss was the day I was looking at the apartment below his. As I waited in the street to see if I could view the apartment he called out from his deck above and offered sangria with he and his pal John, and I could look at his apartment—the second floor replica of what would come to be my own.
I agreed, and asked if I could change in his restroom—I was still in my presentation clothes for the executive presentation I gave at Qualcomm earlier that day. Upstairs I accepted the sangria—quite good actually—looked quickly around the apartment to get a sense of it, and then excused myself to the restroom to change. After I came out I was a bit uneasy as his friend was no longer around. My momma taught me never to be alone with a man, let alone a stranger in his apartment. I straightened my back and sat on the couch. Somehow in the course of the absolutely bizarre conversation to follow, he leaned over (while I swear I somehow wasn’t aware?!) and kissed me full on the mouth. I recoiled, beyond grossed out. I will never forget those lifeless limp bulbous lips. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Let alone that he’s got blonde highlighted hair to his shoulder in a Fabio-esque style, and an orange tan to rival George Hamilton’s (who I later am to learn is his idol). Ew.
A few weeks later as my roommate and I move in, I tell Thanasi about what happened and warned him to steer clear of him. I don’t know why, but over time Thanasi decided to befriend Curtiss. He thought that he wasn’t that bad.
Then we fast forward to July. I’ve kicked my former roommate out for being a world class do nothing all day stoner, and now have to deal with Curtiss who find my apartment to be a mere extension of his own. I would “scream him out of the house”, a drunkard who is drunk from the moment he gets up to the moment he apparently slips back under the rock from which he must have come (sorry Patricia, I’m not a fan of your son, he’s a world class creep—then again I imagine you’re not so proud of what he’s done to your family name either).
One of the instances is a lovely evening when I thought I was indeed alone in my apartment. I come out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, and go to my bedroom. As I stepped over to my dresser, I dropped my towel on the bed and there, standing in all my naked beauty, I hear him coming. He’s entered my home, and is approaching my mirrored bedroom. I start yelling at him to get out, and he (in an act?) drunkenly misunderstands.
On another occasion I was looking for a neighbor with a truck to help me pick up the mattress I purchased from Macy’s. John, Curtiss’ roommate was always a nice enough guy, and I had left a voicemail to see if he’d help me. Instead, my world-class awesome neighbor Aaron helped. But I get home to find a disgusting used mattress circa 1980 which looks like it’s been pulled from the dumpster in my spare bedroom. He had entered my home while I was not there and put a used mattress in my home. I asked for help from one of the neighborhood kids and hoisted the disgusting thing back up to his door and blocked his door with it.
My landlord, Karen of Neptune Place, has done nothing to assist. She sits as gossip queen passing on the latest of the slander I usually hear first from my neighbor informant. She believes everything. Whatever it is, obviously rejecting Curtiss wasn’t the greatest idea for my residency here. However, you’ve all noted that I’ve been being patient for quite a while. You see, I believe in people doing the right thing, and second chances.
However, after having Karen alluding to there not needing to be neighborhood drama (when I suggested perhaps I should file a restraining order against him?) I acquiesced.
Hello?! Did you not notice that you’ve evicted me Karen? Where is there any reason for me to behave now?
So please, meet Curtiss’ Parker of the Wakabayashi Fund. He owes me $10. He passed a bad check to my friend, and there is a $10 balance left.
Yup, this is all for $10, well, that and the repeated molestations.
Curtiss Parker, age 51 of La Jolla, defrauded investors out of millions in a pump-and-dump scam. Continue reading