You know, I keep meaning to write in this thing, but to be honest, there’s just not much going on lately. I’m 95% leased for next year and the off-campus renewal season won’t start until April. So I’ve spent a lot of time catching up on paperwork and filing, and then fleshing out more of our developing business plan. Periodically, I have a phone call or email come in from one of the insufferable members of society, but they’ve actually behaved like decent human beings lately, and one email from the odd exception does not (usually) a blog make.
It’s been warm and wet here, followed by cold and snowy, and that combination is inspiring some pretty amazing episodes of fuckery. Add that to the fact that I’ve been
pretty tired absolutely exhaused lately and we’ve got an epic recipe for Stab-Stabbity-Stab-Stab. Luckily for everyone reading, I have a running list of this inanity and there’s enough in the bank to throw a little something your way.
For you, my friends (you’re welcome):
Love Letters of DOOM! The Snowpocalypse Edition
Dear fucking cat,
Do not drop your toys on my face in the middle of the night. Stop sitting on my chest and cleaning your ass and then proceeding to clean me. I appreciate your attention to detail and cleanliness, but 3:00 am is just not a good time, and I much prefer hot water to spiky tongue. Especially when that tongue eats the foulest smelling food I’ve ever paid $3 a can for.
You’re pretty and I like how you hide the nasty evidence that people are disgusting assholes, but you’re making said assholes drive REALLY badly and while I would absolutely love a new car, I’d prefer not to be dead, crippled, or disfigured in order to get one. Please use some moderation and give us, say an inch or two every day. I don’t think we can take a 6 inch pounding every night. (Giggity!)
Dear Summer Humidity,
It takes a big person to admit their mistakes. It takes a really big person to admit that they’re wrong. This winter weather is ruining my skin, hair, nails, and clothes. I miss you so. Please come back to me, and let’s never fight again.
Okay, warm fuzzies over – let’s get to the good stuff:
Dear Clueless, Snowblind, Vehicular Manslaughter Cases Waiting to Happen,
ZOMFG! IT’S SNOWING! LET’S ALL OVERREACT BECAUSE WE ARE 15 YEAR OLD GIRLS! Seriously, it’s precipitation, people. This kind just happens to come with a little less traction. Drive slow, but not 4 miles per hour. If you can’t handle a more reasonable speed, pull over and let people pass. Or better yet, stay home! Because you’re clearly too stupid to operate a motor vehicle.
And you, asshole that only operates your Fuck-you-mobile at the speeds “Idiocy” and “stop light,” I would like to cordially invite you to go suck a tail pipe. Just because the rest of us aren’t going 47 miles an hour in 4 inches of snow does not give you the divine right to plow your way up the shoulder, spraying slush and snow on pedestrians along the way. Eat a bowl of dicks, asshole.
Dear Spoiled Brats living in one of my houses,
Your lease says in big, bold letters there on the front page that you are responsible for snow removal. The City even tells you when you have to remove snow, how much, how far, and how often. So when you fail to follow those instructions and you get a bill for our maintenance labor, don’t send me a note with your check telling me that I need your permission to remove snow. In recognition of your audacity, I did leave a note in your file with instructions to not to clear your walkway anymore, so you’ll never need to worry about getting a bill from my office for snow removal ever again. From now on, the City will just send you a $100+ citation for not shoveling your sidewalk and then bill you $85 an hour for their crews to shovel for you. You are so very, VERY welcome.
Dear Pretentious Skank,
You live in South Central Fucking Wisconsin. We have lush greenery and many lakes! We also have SEASONS and the minor inconveniences associated with those seasons, like rain! And snow! And above all, we have mud slops and puddles like no other! So why, oh why, in the blue motherfucking blazes would you wear and subsequently ruin a $200 pair of boots in weather where it has been 50 degrees and rainy, followed by 5 degrees and snowy? And why would you loudly express your “intense disappointment” to me when your gravel driveway is so saturated with all this fabulous precipitation that you sink into it up to your $200 boot straps? Number one – I do not make it precipitate. If I had that power, you’d have drowned by now, Noah’s ark style. Number two – I did not dress you this morning. Your unfortunate and ill-timed choice of wardrobe is not my problem. You’re in college, for fuck’s sake – that’s about 10 years past the point of being told how to dress appropriately. I hope your twat spontaneously combusts, whore.
Unicorns, rainbow barf, and serenity now fuckers.