I have a confession to make: I have no life.
No, it’s true. I know it sounds like a lie, given that I haven’t posted in like, a month, but that has nothing to do with it. After I get home from work, I spend my free time with my husband or playing video games, or playing video games with my husband. I’m completely okay with this. But every once in a while, the hubby travels for work or what have you and he may be gone for days at a time. Most people would be lost; I’m productive.
My husband was out of town for almost a week last month which means that I practically built a scale replica of Taj Mahal in his absence with all my free time while I watched reruns of shows on Netflix that he wouldn’t be caught dead queuing on his own. That’s not entirely true. While he wouldn’t queue every episode of Clean House, I didn’t build the Taj Mahal either. I just refinished furniture. But I did become a sort of psychic medium in the process.
I had cleaned and roughed up an end table that I bought a month ago, but it’s been so rainy that I haven’t been able to take it onto the patio to paint it. On Monday, I got so tired of waiting that I just decided to do it in the spare bedroom. I proceeded to drape every square inch of the room in painters plastic, plopped the end table in the middle and let the spray lacquer fly. But the problem with spray lacquer is that, unlike spray paint, it’s very heavy and incredibly potent. Even though I had the window open and a fan pulling air to the outside, by the time I was 3/4 of the way through the can, I was higher than a kite in Chicago and I needed to get more lacquer to finish the table to boot. I was in a tough place, so I sent my dear friend, Queen Inappropriate, a text asking for advice.
me: I’m accidentally fucked up on spray paint. How do I get un-high?
Queen Inappropriate: That question makes no sense to me.
As you can see, she was zero help whatsoever. I went to bed completely unsatisfied. I woke up the next morning feeling haggard and grouchy. Partly because my cat, who shall heretofore be known as “my little douche cute” (on account of I can’t get no [satisfactory sleep] with her around), attacked various parts of my sleeping form at 10 second intervals before pouncing on my face and tearing ass down the hallway to avoid whatever I threw at her. The other issue is that I had REALLY vivid dreams.
me: I had strange dreams all night. There were dicks everywhere.
Queen Inappropriate: This sounds interesting. Please tell me more.
me: But not in a “It’s raining dicks – Hallelujah!” way either.
Queen Inappropriate: It’s far less interesting now.
me: It was just so… fucking weird. Dicks were growing out of the ground and swaying like weird little mushrooms.
Queen Inappropriate: You inhaled far too much spray paint.
me: It gets better – there was this big hole in the ground that looked like a mass grave filled with dicks.
Queen Inappropriate: You need to get laid. Immediately. And well.
me: And somewhere in there, I got a job working with an advertising firm and I was somehow absorbed into their IT/graphic design department and we got drunk together and they thanked me the next day for showing them what boners looked like. Where did the boner come from? Who knows? Was it a live boner or just a picture? I have no idea. And I went to go find a bathroom, but found myself in a tree house that fell over and knocked over a bunch of other tree houses like dominoes.
Queen Inappropriate: Dicks in holes. Much like a dick in a box, except dirtier.
Most people would look at that dream and interpret it to mean that I was tripping balls, or that I need sex, stat. Instead, I think it was just a supernatural force trying to warn me that I was going to be beset by dicks all. day. long.
Remember my sign throwing tenants? My boss stopped by their house and got them to commit to a lease renewal, but failed to tell them that he’d increased the rent because they were well past their renewal deadline and we turned down another group willing to pay extra rent because they kept dicking around with their renewal.
And so started my day with them screaming at me over a rental increase for which I wasn’t even responsible. The guy told me that I “need to have some decency” because I have apparently been nothing but disrespectful of him from the day they moved in (I wasn’t working here when they moved in), and I further disrespected him and his family by “bringing students into my house!” We don’t show that house to anyone who isn’t financially qualified, so his comment was just idiotic, but I replied with “What’s your point? You have no right to tell me who I can or cannot rent to if you aren’t intending to sign a renewal.” And then he told me that he demands to be treated with respect and I told him that I expect the same.
And do you know what the woman hating son of a bitch said to me?
“NO! I will NOT! You are not my equal!”
“Then take a seat until *boss* is ready for you because I won’t be working with you any longer.”
*Pointing at chair* “SIT!”
I swear, there are some days that I can’t tell whether to update my resume to include daycare experience, or doggie daycare experience.
More to the point, who put this dick in my office?
This was followed by yet another stupid phone call (of which there are many lately).
“I’m calling about X apartments.”
“I’m sorry, we had 100% renewal in that building this year and those are not available.”
“Are you sure? Is there someone else I can talk to? Because the website says there’s one apartment available.”
“That’s because she just dropped off her renewal this morning and I haven’t had a chance to update the listings.”
“Can I just talk to someone else?”
And then I got three different emails about apartments I have listed where people wanted to negotiate the move-in date.If I have an apartment listed for July 1st, DO NOT message me to say that you need it by June 1st. There are people living there, and they’re not going to move out early because you want their apartment, Jackass. Likewise, I won’t hold an apartment for you rent free for a month because you don’t want to pay 2 rents while you wait for your lease to expire.
So let’s see here – since my last post, I finally got a review 2.25 years later and a small raise. I took a long birthday weekend to sit on my ass at home. I took a long weekend this past weekend to go on a weekend getaway to look at light houses. It snowed (in May) and I only saw one light house with my own eyes. I got some good wine though. I also joined a gym again and have been obsessively logging the calories of everything that enters my gaping maw. But those are topics for another day. For now, I’m going to go show an apartment and write a few posts so that I can get my brain lubricated.
Since there are clearly many people in the world who could benefit from this advice, I leave you with a handy gift for those thoughtless wank blankets in your life:
Happy Monday, y’all.