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October 09, 2003 - 4:33 p.m. So I promised a scathingly funny story to those of you on my notify list, I�m not sure I�ve got the scathingly funny part covered, but never say I don�t try. A couple of weeks ago, right around the time of my hiatus from this here journal, I was having one of the crappiest weeks I�d had in a good long while. You know those weeks where everything seems to just go to shit? Yeah, I had one of those. So on top of everything else that had been going on in my life�which, dear readers, you have been privy to�that Monday I had to take my car in to get the brakes replaced, all of the brakes replaced, that�s right not just the front or the back ones, ALL OF THE DAMN THINGS, to the tune of $500. Fantastic. Right around the same time I seemed to have also developed some kind of sty in my eye, charming. So that Thursday night I�m coming home from work, recently penniless (no no, thank you dear mechanic) with this puffy, sore, red eye, I'm sure you can imagine the delightful mood I was in. All I really wanted to do was get home, pour a big ol� glass of wine and take bath. That�s it, that�s all I wanted really, not too much to ask you say? Well in my life apparently that�s exactly too much to ask. As I�m dragging myself up the 3 flights of stairs to my apartment, swollen eye and all, feeling not just a little like Quasimodo returning to the bells, the Bells. The BELLS, BELLS, BELLS, BELLS! (you get the picture) I notice that there are these white, boot prints leading up the stairs. �Huh, they must be doing work in the building.� The boot prints continue as I approach my floor, �Huh, they must have been doing work on my floor, isn�t that interesting, no one mentioned anything to me.� Then I notice that the boot prints stop�wait for it�right outside my door. Aw Shit. So, I tentatively open the door to my apartment, hoping against hope that they were just checking on something or that the mysterious boot wearer in the building had the wrong apartment or anything really that would mean they hadn�t been working in my apartment. No such luck. The infernal boot prints, as it turns out, didn�t stop at my door, but rather continued across my hardwood floors and into my bathroom. Now, everything that had been in my bathroom, trashcan, bathmat, litter box, soap, soap dish, the contents of my bathroom counter and the 6� tall, wrought-iron �tag�re that lives behind my toilet that houses all my girly lotions, hair products, make-up etc, has been moved into my rather narrow hallway. The hallway is now so narrow�due to the fact that it�s now been furnished with everything that was in my bathroom�that to get down it you have to turn sideways and kind of shimmy past everything. The shining new addition to my bathroom? A 1��sq. hole behind my toilet, the pieces of the wall that once were in the place of the hole now littering my floor. Plaster dust was spread through my apartment as far as the eye could see, all over the floor, the counter in the bathroom, the bathtub, the cat� Additionally, it appeared that I had no water. To confirm the lack of water I tried all the taps and then proceeded to open the toilet lid, whereupon I discovered, to add insult to injury, the mysterious, white boot-print making jackass had smoked my smokes and had thrown the butts in my toilet, which, in case you�ve forgotten, COULDN�T FLUSH BECAUSE I HAD NO WATER. How did I know they were my smokes you ask? Well, I suppose I could be wrong, but I don�t think Parliament Ultra Lights are all the rage among plumbers. Let�s not forget that my landlords hadn�t bothered to inform me of this intrusion nor of the fact I would be living water free for the time being. So what do I do? "*Flick* ahAHHH�DAMNIT, I have to go buy cigarettes since the jackass that destroyed my bathroom SMOKED MY FRICKIN� CIGARETTES." So then, I�m nic-fitting, crankier than before (and no, I didn�t think that was possible either) and my eye is really bothering me, probably due to the abundance of plaster dust floating in the air. Ahh life, she be good. Now, 2 weeks later, I can report that the water returned (a day and a half later) and the hole has been repaired (almost 2 weeks to the day). Upon the event of the fixing of the hole, (huzzah!) I thought I�d celebrate by taking a nice hot shower that didn�t end with plaster dust coating my body and mixing with my lotion to form an enchanting grayish paste. Turn on the hot water and grab my towel while I wait for it to warm up, and wait, and wait. And. WAIT. Yup, no hot water. My landlord is trying to drive me insane. Bitches. On another note, Happiest of Happy Birthday's to the Rockstar!! � Wondering:If this is what the heroine in Gaslight felt like?
Doing:Plotting against my landlord, if that is indeed his real name.
Wishing:For revenge most excellent.
Travel back in time True Art - June 21, 2004
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