InCity Letter – Terry [Theresa] Toombs update

Letter to the editor:

Thank you for your articles regarding Theresa Toombs [see below].

FYI: Theresa has been approved by East Coast Assistance Dogs (EACD), which is located in New York and Connecticut, to receive an assistance dog some time this year (when they find the right “match” for her “disability”). Apparently, they don’t have very strict guidlelines when choosing a client.

She [Toombs] is currently soliciting donations from non-profit organizations to raise $8,000 for said dog.

What can we do to stop this? My concern is for the dog’s safety.

A Concerned Citizen

editor’s note: Before we repost last summer’s pieces, I want to tell you this “Concerned Citizen”: Tonight (August 31, 2011) we got to see the Boob – Terry Toombs – in all her creepy glory. She was folding her laundry in her picture window and Jeff and I saw her – not naked but in a teeny pink spandexy bra. As you know, this woman is huge and rude and foul mouthed AND no one finds her attractive. What was happening was: Teery Toombs assaulted us with her body. This was done to gross us out. The curtains wide open of course and there she is in front of her picture window folding laundry and holding a conversation with her husband, her 30-something year old son and a 30-something year old woman who has apparently moved in with them and has as big a mouth as the Boob and her clan do.

No sense of boundaries, modesty. Inappropriateness all around.

Jeff said: You got a camera?

I said: YES! Can you believe it?

So we planned on waiting ’til dark so I could photograph Terry Toombs and place the pic in the paper. But the Toombs must have heard us because the lights were then shut off and they disappeared – after 25 minutes of the Boob’s near naked laundry folding.

Here’s my point: After my Booob pieces appeared in the paper and in my blog this happened: Terry Toombs’ estranged sister Vanessa screeched up the street in a maroon station wagon, got out and ran up to me and Jeff. We were in the driveway chatting. Vanessa told us she was Terry’s sister and what I wrote was right on. She also said they hadn’t spoken to each other for 10 years because of what Terry’s clan did to hers. I was appalled – and did the research. One of Vanessa’s allegations I could not verify. The other, yes: Terry’s son, Billy junior, was taken to court by Vanessa after he allegedly did sexually inappropriate things to her mentally disabled relative.

Vanessa was upset when she told us – screaming, actually. Vanessa said she took Billy junior (Toombs) to court, but Terry and hubby Billy Senior lawyered up and the charges were dropped. Vanessa was still upset – after all these years. My columns were like a release for her. Any ways, I talked with Billy Jr.’s lawyer who said yeah the charges were dropped because the female was also doing sexual stuff – not just Billy Jr.

“But she was emotionally retarded!” I said.

And now tonight. What it comes down to is this: The Toombs use sex and their bodies to debase others – that is what molestation/incest/exhibitionism is all about. Not about intimacy or caring or even sex. It is about violence, anger, power, in short, abuse.

So tonight Terry Toombs decided to abuse, assault me and Jeff. Next time she does, we will be ready: WITH CAMERAS. The pics will run in my paper and hopefully these sickos will stop when all of Worcester sees the Boob’s boobs.

What’s needed at 132 Institute Road?

Sigmund Freud.


NOW the stories:

Theresa “Terry” Toombs of 132 Institute Rd. – aka “The Boob”

By Rosalie Tirella

How weird can Worcester get?

This weird: The guy I go out with says that all summer long, whenever Terry Toombs of 132 Institute Rd, saw him (walking his dog, etc), she made it a point to stand in front of her dining room picture window – a huge one – and fold laundry infront of it – topless. With all the lights on! Totally naked from the waist up! Naked, naked, naked!

“Gross!” I said.

“Weird,” said my guy.

Weighing about 300 pounds, looking unkempt and dirty, Topless Terry (now aka The Boob) has no chance of sleeping with my guy. “I would fuck one of the sons first!” he has said.

Yet Terry loves to leer at him.

So in front of the picture window she goes – folding laundry for him, getting her sick kick out of this behavior, having her secret dirty fun. How vulgar. How shameless. Married and with two grown sons living in the same house.

I pity the poor WPI student who may get a look at Worcester’s Boob as he or she is walking in front of the Toomes’ residence to one of the student apartments on upper Institute Rd. How sad. The WPI kids, maybe their first time away from home, get a full dose of Worcester low-life-ness. Another reason to leave Worceter forever, the night of graduation, they probably tell themselves. I can picture their vacation conversations with pals. Maybe their friends go to Columbia or NYU. When they get together over school break, the Columbia kids regale their WPI friends with stories of the Big Apple. Not to worry! Our WPI students can come back with tales of The Big Boob – Terry Toombs of 132 Institute Rd. (She really should be living on Caro Street)

How weird that The Boob and her husband and two man-children would land in Worcester’s chi chi West Side. Nothing about them is a fit for the land of doctors, teachers and business owners. For instance, The Boob has the dirtiest mouth this side of Park Ave – the filthiest mouth the West Side of Worcester has ever heard! “Get in this house, you fuckin’ cocksucker!” my guy has heard her scream to her little old wizened husband. “You cocksucker!” she screams – I have heard this term of endearment, too. The Boob is loud and coarse sounding. When my guy mimics her, he sounds just like one of the Monty Python guys in drag. Sometimes I’ll ask him to do his impression of The Boob. We both giggle when he hams it up! Once my guy said: You know, if you put together all of the their best body parts together, you culdn’t make one half-good-looking human.

But there’s more. Not only does he and neighborhors have to listen to “cocksucker this and cocksucker that” all the time – as soon as the Toombs pile out of their van and hit the pavement in front of their home. (Yes, let’s have our domestic tranquility shattered courtesy of Terry Toome! The Boob!) They also have to deal with people who dump crap in their back yard and on the sidewalk in front of their house. This past summer (probably in her glory), The Boob literaly took apart a sofa in her driveway. Too cheap to have it hauled away – she and a pal sat in the summer heat pulling old batting out of pillows, etc, leaving the coils and frame sitting there.

When the Toombs first moved in my guy and I nicknamed them the Clampetts – after the 1960s TV show, The Beverly Hillbillies. They seemed to swim in ignorance and revel in their stupidity. The Clampetts would take a part their sofa in the middle of their neighborhood. In fact we have been calling the Toomes the Clampetts for so long, my guy sometimes doesn’t even remember their last name – or first. Yet The Boob feels she has the right to get close …

The boob.

But here is the hitch: The Boob, who used to be a legal secretary (thank you Worcester legal community), must be farily shrewd because she and her clan pay their mortgage without hardly lifting a finger. In fact this crowd – including the sons who must be in their mid thirties had NO job amongst them all. ZERO job – zero work ethic. The Toombs play the system – a system that landed them in a nice house (which they are quickly turning into a dump) in the West Side! The four of them combined get their welfare, SSI, retirement and other entitlement checks to pay their mortgage. Meals on Wheels, free homemaker services, free PCA services, free house repairs by Lowes, free handicapped ramp (which they don’t use but hang their laundry on to dry) by the Worcester Fire Department firefighter – volunteer carpenters. They have asked my guy to do stuff for them – plow them out for free, free jumps to their car battery. They are the laziest people I have ever seen. And yet no one has called them on this – FRAUD. No one has seen The Boob rip out tree stumps out of her backyard one summer and then have community volunteers rake and landscape their entire backyard the NEXT summer, while the Boob and her family did nothing. Just sat in their house. I witnessed this a few summers ago. (They have lived on 132 Institute Rd. for about 3 1/2 years)

I mean how much TV can you watch? How long can you play computer games?

Yet this bullshit, courtesy of the taxpayer, has enabled the Toombs to pool all their entitlement checks to pay the mortgage and other notes on their house and take month long vacations in Texas or Florida. And to bear their boobs!

But do they thank the community that enables them? Do they even pick up the crap in their yard? No Terry Toomes – in her mid-fifties – bares her breasts. The Toombs eat their free meals on wheels (I thought the meals were for the house-bound elderly), collect their disability checks and, in general, degrade themselves, and the West Side neighborhood they lucked into – courtesy of some great Worcester lawyers – pals. One being Mark Maynard! They run, walk, haul things around, take sofas apart. How are they qualified for free homemaking? Free meals?

The West Side of Worcester thanks you, Mr. Maynard. You managed to get friends of friends into a pretty exclusive neighborhood only to have them turn it into their personal pigsty.


2. Toombs update re: The topless Theresa Toombs and her obscene clan

By Rosalie Tirella

A few months ago I wrote about Theresa “Terry” Toombs of 132 Institute Road – how she folded her laundry topless – boobs a-bouncing, lights on – infront of her giant picture window to try and “titilate” my guy (and anyone else who happened to be walking by her house). I also wrote about how Terry Toombs and her family scam the social service system – getting thousands of dollars of food, social workers, social services for free. I also mentioned that Terry loved to scream “FUCK!” “Asshole!” and to her husband, Billy, – this little gem: “FUCKIN’ COCKSUCKER!” All the time.

Well, a little publicity does nothing to change some people. A few days ago my guy was trying to get into his car – everyone’s car-door locks had apparently frozen – and as he’s working at his car door – WHAM/SLAM goes the the front door of the Toombs residence. Out their pour out of their house, clambering down their stairs. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!” Teery the Boob Toombs screams – positively screams – at one of her 40-year old “boys” or her husband, Billy, a pathetic sap, if ever there was one. This little gem sprinkled all over their West Side neighborhood just days before Christmas. The entire neighborhood aurally assaulted by Teresa Toombs.

After this little show, my guy said: “They’re low-lifes. They belong in Main South.”

No, Sweetie, the good people of Main South have just rid themselves of the PIP! Why bring in a mini-PIP with the Toombs?

They physically disgust my guy. “She waddles!” he told me. “She doesn’t even walk.”

I know, Sweetie, Terry Toombs does seem subhuman, but you’re stuck with them … .

This year my guy says he will NOT plow these losers out of their house after snowstorms. He and the Toombs have a shared driveway but he parks his car in the street and his truck in the driveway. His big truck will have no problem ramming through the several inches of snow – the Toombs may have to actually lift a shovel or two.

Last year, like the year before, after evey snowstorm the Toombs just sat in their house looking out their window, waiting for my guy to come home with his plow to clear the driveway and then – only then – would they go out. They have not so much as lifted a sandbox shovel to move snow. They have not offered to buy a bag of salt or sand or anything.

It is all done for free.

This year, the “low-lifes,” as he calls them, will get no assistance.

Assistance. The word reminds me of last winter, when one of their FREE homemakers came in a snowstorm and got “hung up” on the cement block in front of the house, blocking the shared driveway. I went up to the young Latina woman and tried to help. Couldn’t budge the car. I said: You will have to try to ask the Toombs. She said they wouldn’t help – Billy Toombs – the idiot father has sensitive lungs.

“Bullshit,” I told her.

And the Toombs didn’t lift a finger for their homemaker. In 20 degree weather. They just watched as this young woman – in scrubs and a little jacket – stood outside and called a towing company. They didn’t even invite her in – their homemaker – to use their phone or to sit down in their warm house and wait for the towing company, maybe while sipping a cup of tea or coffee. To warm up while she waited for road assistance.

Nope. Not a chance.

Assistance. For free! Again! My guy said after the Toombs got their handicappled ramp (which they all walk/run down!) built for FREE by the Worc. Fire Dept., they got the company that was doing street repair in front of their home to come over to their yard to tweak their ramp for them. For free, of course. My guy said they talked with the contractors who were on another project (for the city) and got them to cover the step to their ramp with cement, so the ramp would go straight to the ground – no step. (easier for them to run all over!) My guy said the cement guys felt sorry for these frauds and did NOT charge them for a good bit of work.

Assistance. The Toombs housesitter just emailed me. Terry the Boob wants an Assistance DOG – FOR FREE. FROM NEADS! For what? my guy said. I have to agree. Last night, there was Terry the boob walking up and down and all around her living room and dining room just fine, carrying Christmas gifts and everything. Why does she need an assistance dog? Apparantly NEADS felt the same way. They said NO to these losers. NEADS is the only social serivce agency that has DENIED these hucksters anything. Good job, NEADS!

Now, says their house sitter, the Toombs hope to get an assistance dog from a Connecticut agancy. Cost? thousands of dollars. NOTE TO ANY SPECIAL NEEDS DOG FOLKS: DO NOT give these people a wonderful German Shepherd or Golden Retriever. I have seen the Toombs hit their old (now dead) dog Oreo! They will just abuse the dog – the way they abuse each other. Besides, they have 8 cats and the house smells like shit. When my guy did a job for them three years ago, I went inside with him – cat litter boxes filled with cat shit. Disgusting and smelly. Please! No beautiful dogs for the Toombs!

And finally: After the first Toombs story ran in my paper, InCity Times, my guy and I were on the porch and this woman, distraught, comes running up to me yelling: Are you the City Times? (She had apparently read my article on the Toombs)

I told her I was. Then she told me I was right on re: The Toomb and that she was Terry’s long lost sister – that is she hasn’t spoken to Terry and her husband Billy and sons for 15 years. She told us … well, let’s say I am researching this all and will report back. My guy was so upset as he listened to this woman, he made it a point to get me the correct spelling of their name. He found an old bill from when he did that one job for them. “T-O-O-M-B-S,” he told me. “T-O-O-M-B-S.”

And the saga of these low-lifes continues …


The Boob” – update #2

By Rosalie Tirella

How very interesting … .

I got an email from a woman who has known Terry Toombs – aka The Boob – for 13 or so years. She apparently house-sits for Terry when The Boob and her clan go on their 3-week-long vacations (which happens every four months or so!). The woman read my Toomes blog posting and ICTimes story and told me I hit the nail on the head when it came to the Toomes clan of 132 Institute Rd, Worcester.

She agreed: The Toombs milk the system. This woman told me Terry and clan “raid food pantries.” She said her man boys may act dumb but are intelligent enough to get on their comupter and book discount airplane flights. The woman said the Toombs are heading out for their 12-day vaca soon – in January! She said she wanted to say: WHO’S HANDICAPPED?? when one of Terry’s sons was making airplane reservations and asked for 2 handicapped seats. (why not?! more room/less money!)

The woman, who said the Toombs have 8 cats, and a flea problem (last summer) said the naked-boob-bearing Terry sounds right on, too.

Two words for Terry Theresa Toombs and clan: MEANS TESTING.


MEANS TESTING! A STRATEGY TO CURTAIL welfare fraud that Mass gunbernatorial candidate Charlie Baker recommended the State of Mass institute before this state and our fair cities and towns go belly up! I am a Democrat and would never ever take shelter or food or clothing away from a poor single mother and her infant/children. But the Toombs clan is something different. Something insidious eating away at the fabric of … Worcester, society.

Means testing should be something any social service agency/food pantry should do before it gives any sort of benefits/food/etc to folks who say they need the help.

For example: If you want food stamps, how do you live – what is the lifestyle that makes you unable to pay for food? Why should Terry Toombs and her family go all over Worcester county “raiding food pantries” and then use the money they shoud have spent on groceries to buy airplane tickets for their vacations? How insane is that?

Something is very very wrong here. The Toombs are the perfect example of a floundering USA. America has lost its bearings. Where once the USA had a killer work ethic – I know: my immigrant grandparents and my mom worked themselves to the bone – we now have the Toombs – the culture of entitlement. Fat, lazy, computer literate enough to Google “food pantries” and “free” and then jump into their van to retrieve their goodies.

When I was growing up, my mother told me what her mother from Poland told her: When you get your pay check this is how you spend yor money (in order of importance): rent, gas/heating bill, electric bill, food, telephone. Extra money went for clothing, shoes, etc. The last thing my mother would blow her teeny paycheck on was a family vacation. She just didn’t have the dough – and we kids had to adjust. We never ever went on a real vacation. My mother couldn’t afford a week in Florida or Cape Cod. She couldn’t spend dough on lake cabins, etc. But during the summer my sisters and I did go the Girls Club on Winthrop Street (fun!), attended Worcester’s Summer’s World play productions in the parks (also fun!), went to the lilbrary and enjoyed their movies and visited our Aunt Rose and Uncle Mark in the nicer part of town. They had a big back yard and a little house. Much nicer than our third-floor flat in Green Island. When we vistied my aunt and uncle, my mom (a single mom for the most part) relaxed with my aunt and uncle over a cup of coffee and donuts. My sisters and I played basketball with our cousins – or board games like Monopoly. A blast! We also had cook outs and icecream parties. And sometimes we all went – my Uncle Mark driving – to Natasket or Hampton beach for the day.

It was great fun – and appropriate. We were poor. We tried our best to have a good time during school vacations. More important: we always had lots of food (that my mom paid for with her hard earned dough) in the house, a roof over our heads, warmth, electricity, telephone service and boots for the winter months. Which we paid for ourselves. We kids – through my mom’s excellent example – had pride in ourselves, our minds, each other. My mom was God to us. My mother was fiercely proud of herself, too.

I will always love her for this.

Even though we were poor, my mom expected me to get all As in school (which I did – al honors classes and 3 AP courses – up until college!). And she expected me and my two sisters to go to college. This is when – through my aunt – we got assistance from the state and the federal government. Besides college applications, we filled out Pell grant applications, student loan appleications, scholarship applications, etc BECAUSE MY MOTHER WAS POOR AND WE COULD NOT AFFORD COLLEGE and we got help from the govt. Perfectly appropriate.

My mom earned every iota of respect we gave her. We feared her. She was old school. She was not our huggy, lovey-dovey gal pal – she was our mother. Sarah Palin would probably call her a Mama Grizzly.

So opposite from the pigs who are the Toombs! Their raids of food pantries! Terry The Boob and her pathetic husband and kids bring shame to themselves and what it means to be an American. For all of us.

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