In case everyone hasn’t already notice, my little slice of bloggy goodness is on a new domain! I’m going to slowly be transitioning my personal identity away from my rage fueled rantings as much as possible, so having a domain with my name in it isn’t ideal. For the time being, the old URL will redirect here, but in a few months, I’ll be turning that off and leaving you in the lurch for funny, semi-murderous rage posts.
In short, if you follow me, you’ll need to update your Readers or RSS to my new feed (Linky in the sidebar and footer).
A special thank you again to my friend Drew for
assisting with handling every aspect of that process and saving me from certain insanity. We had a minor issue with CommentLuv being a bitch and not displaying anyone’s comments since the transfer, but it’s up and running again, and I shall live to rant another day.
Further proof that Drew was destined to be my friend and seat companion on the highway to hell:
[15:16] Drew: S’pose I’ll shower since there’s a lull here at the Mount Bastard Center for the Criminally Insane. brb.
[15:17] Me: That’s going in the blog.
[15:43] Drew: I wanted to be Mount Bastard, USA with a zip code and all
[15:43] Drew: but the fun police, yknow
[15:46] Me: I think it would be fun to put together a whole company with that name. What do we sell? Sanctuary.
[15:49] Drew: or Beatings.
And he’s single, ladies. You can have your very own Captain Awesome! Inquire within for more details.
Moving on to new business – I apologize for the semi-disappearing act recently. This should be the season where we’re slowing down and I’m using up any banked or vacation hours before August when I won’t be allowed to take any time off through the end of September. Unfortunately, I can’t take that time off while I still have unleased units, so I’m spending a lot of time in the car driving to properties, some of which aren’t even mine, trying to get everything rented.
Remember the apartments belonging to the management company from out of town that I can’t rent because they look like the inside of a hobo’s summer home?
After many hours of coordinating maintenance and cleaning crews to go through and make it a little less of a hovel, the tenants managed to make a mess in a single weekend, and it smells worse than it did before, if you can imagine something worse than 2 year old Natty Ice, dirty sweat socks, and ball sweat. The management company has me doing routine inspections of the premises now, including making housekeeping lists for them to do.
Let me say that again: I’m making chore lists for grown adults, none of whom is my husband. And this is why I’m a proponent of the hamster method of parenting that involves eating one’s children. As humans, we have a variety of tasty ingredients at our disposal. It could be a new trend in haute cuisine.
Tomorrow is also a special election here in Wisconsin to recall Governor Scott Walker because he is, as pretty much every politician in human history, a dirty rat bastard who pissed a whole lotta people off. Since one of the tenants here in our office building is a Recall Walker volunteer office, they’ve got a million people in and out of their office and our parking lot. And they are, in many ways, more spoiled and entitled than my tenants, with the added obnoxiousness of not showering regularly, and clogging our toilets with metamucil on a daily basis. (Seriously, I’m no stranger to human anatomy and physiology. There is something very wrong with your fucking diets, people.)
They’re not allowed to park in this lot by mandate of their lease, but it hasn’t done much to deter anyone. So I’ve set kitchen timers on the visitor spaces and ticketed anyone who stays more than an hour. I ticket anyone that parks in a space reserved for paying tenants. I’ve announced loudly within their office that I will be towing any unauthorized vehicles en masse just to watch the panicked flurry of vehicles scrambling to get out of the lot. They parked my tenants out of their spaces so many times today that we actually roped off the parking spaces. Not only did they drive over the ropes, but one of them waited until I left for a showing and took my parking space.
Most people would key their car, leave a nasty note, or let the air out of their tires – possibly with a knife. But I’m a rational individual, albeit one who likes to fuck with these assholes. I parked my car as close to his bumper as I could get without actually touching, then went into my office and called parking enforcement. A few minutes later, I heard an angry old man yelling at people in the building demanding that whoever parked him in move their car NOW. Then I heard some muffled voices talking to him and a moment later, he came storming into my office.
“You parked me in! Move!”
“I will be with you in a moment.” *Clicking through work emails. Answering a phone call. Filing.*
“THIS IS RIDICULOUS! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO OBSTRUCT THE PARKING LOT!”
“Because that’s my parking space and you are illegally parked. Also, you’ll need to hang out for a moment until parking enforcement is through ticketing your vehicle.”
I’ve never seen an old man sprint before today…
And finally, in honor of her recent tribute post (to me!) I have a shout-out to my dear friend over at NATurally Inappropriate, who has been following my pins on Pinterest and linking me to items related to my wine consumption.
And all because I texted her to ask why people look at me with pity and assume I’m an alcoholic when I purchase wine by the case. She implies that I’m a lush. I insist that it’s what keeps me from murder and aneurysms. Like 25 bottles is really an excessive amount…
Also, because she is a fabulous bitch, I’m totally making her one of these with the word “fuck” embroidered on it, Mr. Inappropriate be damned: