Tears in the carpet, stains on your soul
Changed my mind about the antidepressants and have gone straight to heroin, much like straight to video. Ah, I'm joking, people, needles scare me worse than Dick Cheney's huge shiny bald dome.
Anywho, the biatch from hell i.e. the landlady had the nerve to charge me for a "tear in the carpet" (cheap-ass ugly fucking thing that was already shot to hell about fifteen years back) and to charge me for a new pillow because there was a "red stain on it." Indeed, it was my fault, and the fact that she is this anal should not be surprising. Yet, it still is. She also wanted to know about her bedsheet, which I accidentally ripped, then replaced. She will get that information when hell freezes over. Out of sight, out of mind, dear sweet ones!
I was trolling the craigslist, kind of the way you do when you're online and need another place to stay fast, and saw another room for rent. The dear woman stated that "If you call me after 8pm, your chances of getting the room will be shot." I think she had this in all caps. Are all women renting rooms in their houses motherfuckers? Apparently yes!
Which is why I eat potato chips and dip and pray for sweet oblivion.
I hope your Father's Day (greeting card companies are geniuses, no?) was a happy one. My father was sort of like the one you see in bad TV movies about girls who end up in juvenile hall, but don't let that stop you from having a better one then I did. It made me who I am today, a blogger with only a minimal chip on her shoulder.
And boy, am I cute.
God bless.
Anywho, the biatch from hell i.e. the landlady had the nerve to charge me for a "tear in the carpet" (cheap-ass ugly fucking thing that was already shot to hell about fifteen years back) and to charge me for a new pillow because there was a "red stain on it." Indeed, it was my fault, and the fact that she is this anal should not be surprising. Yet, it still is. She also wanted to know about her bedsheet, which I accidentally ripped, then replaced. She will get that information when hell freezes over. Out of sight, out of mind, dear sweet ones!
I was trolling the craigslist, kind of the way you do when you're online and need another place to stay fast, and saw another room for rent. The dear woman stated that "If you call me after 8pm, your chances of getting the room will be shot." I think she had this in all caps. Are all women renting rooms in their houses motherfuckers? Apparently yes!
Which is why I eat potato chips and dip and pray for sweet oblivion.
I hope your Father's Day (greeting card companies are geniuses, no?) was a happy one. My father was sort of like the one you see in bad TV movies about girls who end up in juvenile hall, but don't let that stop you from having a better one then I did. It made me who I am today, a blogger with only a minimal chip on her shoulder.
And boy, am I cute.
God bless.
posted by lakeofthelongsun72 at 4:27 PM
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