I know I brag a SHIT-TON about my daughter and her singing abilities…but just…just…THIS: http://youtu.be/wJGpBrUDVho
I have a friend that posts pictures to Facebook and asks the viewer to gaze at the photo and write a summary of the feelings that it induces – it can be a feeling that it conjures, a short story, a poem, a song. Anything at all, really.
This photo was shared by another friend of mine and a mutual friend wrote as a comment, “Riding his steed deep into the misty English moors onward to yet another battle.”
Does this photo move you in any way? Positive or negative? Leave me a comment below.
Hey y’all. Reading the lovely blogs here on a rainy slow day at work brings me such joy and inspiration, I thought it was time for me to go ahead and throw a post out there.
Oh, where do I begin? I KNOW!!!! I should introduce you to one of my dogs. If you don’t give a shit about my dog – fuck you – then scroll down to the Apartment Manager Tales below because, let’s face it, that’s all you want to read about anyway. And that whole “fuck you” thing? I was kidding…yeesh. CALM DOWN, CRAZY!
We adopted Winston from a friend of a friend who was going through a divorce and couldn’t care for him any longer. Apparently the story goes like this: The people who “bought” him got him from a puppy mill. Apparently, he was in pretty bad shape being cooped up in poop filled cages and dirty and just not good. He’s a full bred Westie. When the time came for this person to get rid of him, by chance I saw a post on my friends FB page and got pretty excited at the prospect of getting a 2nd dog that was in need of a loving home. Our other dog, Sierra is getting older and I thought it would be an excellent time to get her a companion and expand our family a little bit – and to my surprise, Mr. Pants agreed.
Our first plan of attack after we met him was to give him a BATH! Holy shitballs he was stinky and dirty. He had a bald spot on his butt near his tail where he was itchy and miserable – like, bloody raw, here people…NOT GOOD. His tummy was black and like leather from all the scratching. His ears were scabby and there was visible matting of the fur in various places. Needless to say, he got a bath the instant the old owners left and the door shut behind them.
The next order of business on the agenda was to get a vet to take a look and prescribe meds to get him comfortable. Because the old owner couldn’t afford his meds, I assumed the paperwork she gave me would have all that info listed. Nope. The vet I took him to basically said to me – and I’m paraphrasing here – “You should probably just consider him a lost cause and get rid of him quick.” *scooby do head shake here* I, at this point, had only had him a total of 2-3 days and this douchebag is telling me to get rid of him and RUN? I should take him back there…sunnuvabitch. I’ll show him what a “lost cause” is.
This is Winston now: pretty amazing transformation, right?
We could fast forward to yesterday if you like. The cliff notes over the last 6 months include 2 different vets, a change in diet to include $80 for dog food that lasted about 6 weeks that was specially formulated with NO ALLERGENS. 4 different meds that semi-worked until we found the 2 that really work great. All his skin issues are regulated by the meds. He has no food allergies, so we’re back on the food my other dog eats. As long as he has his meds, he’s a happy boy. Then Monday, I called in to get his prescription re-filled. The last time I took him to the vet ( because they keep wanting to see him but it costs me $100 each time I take him in and another $45 for meds!) I made sure to let them know that THEY said he has “chronic skin issues” and would be on meds the rest of his life. This I can handle – what I will NOT fucking do is take him to the Goddamned vet every single month just so I can get a refill on his meds so I made them understand that I need refills without having to bring him every month. They marked it in the chart and I called Monday to get the prescription refilled. I called yesterday to see if the meds were ready – NOPE. Okay. Fine. She said she’d call me when they are ready. Great. 2:30 rolls around so I decided I’d just go down to the vets office and sit and wait for them to get them ready for me. I gave them more than 24 hours notice. If I had had an appointment there that day, they would have fucking filled it (like they did for the 3 people who had come in during the 1/2 hour that I was sitting there.) and I would have gone home with what I needed. It’s not like they are back there with a fucking chemistry set cooking up the pills I need. They had to open two different bottles and count out a total of 80 pills. Not a very difficult task.
Here’s how this shit went down:
Me: Just popping in to pick up Winston’s meds.
Vet Desk Lady: Uh…okay…
Me: I’ll go ahead and wait.
….1/2 hour later….(3 people get their meds because they had been “seen” by the vet….how hard is it to count 80 pills?)……
Vet Desk Lady: Sassy? I’m not sure they are going to get to you…they need to review the chart…(voice trails as if she’s feeding me a bunch of bullcrap)…
Me: There’s no need to review the chart. Last time I was here I was told I could call in a refill without a problem…I called yesterday, they said it’d be ready today and he’s out of meds. I’ll wait.
Vet Desk Lady: Okaaaayyy….
……15 minutes later……
Vet Desk Lady: Sassy? Winston’s meds are ready. Next time give us 48 hours notice.
Me: I was told 24 hours would be sufficient. Here’s my credit card.
THAT is how you handle shit, people. Just. Show. Up. They can’t ignore you forever.
APARTMENT MANAGER TALES: It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Well, WAIT NO MORE, dear reader!
On March 9th, my maintenance guy called me to inform me that a U-Haul truck had hit one of the carports on the property and was tilting precariously at a 45 degree angle. He had ran to every residents door and managed to get them to move their vehicles from underneath the structure so that no further damage would be done and the next morning, he called me to let me know that at about 7:45 am the carport buckled and was 1/2 laying on the ground. Grrrrrreeaaat.
I get to work around 9am to find no message from the person who hit the structure. No note, voicemail…nothing. I did have a resident call with a license plate # from the truck so I called U-Haul and asked them if they could confirm that it was a certain person – because they were the ONLY ONES MOVING IN OVER THE WEEKEND. Yep. It was who I thought it was, so I told the person on the other end of the line that this particular vehicle hit a carport on my property and I needed to file a claim.
3 hours later, the new resident comes in and says she hit the carport and that she barely tapped it and it shouldn’t have fell over like that. “Uh…you must’ve hit it harder than you thought you did. And why didn’t you leave a message or drop a note or anything?” I then explained that someone had reported the incident and took down the license plate # and I called and have a claim going with U-haul and that I’m sure they would be contacting her. She was shocked that I called and reported it. WHAAAAAAA??????????????????????????????????????? Are you fucking kidding me? You think I’m going to sit in here and not do anything about it? It’s at the entrance to my property, by the way – and because it has to go through the insurance company, we couldn’t TOUCH it…it had to sit there all broken and shit until we got approved to be able to do anything to it at all. We couldn’t even tear it down.
Here’s a great one…
I’m in the midst of an eviction. There are a few things about this eviction that may seem to paint me as quite the bitch and I’ll get to that and then some of you may want to pray for my soul because I’m pretty sure that I might go to hell…but going to hell doesn’t have anything to do with the plain and simple fact that this lady hasn’t paid me rent and she can’t live here for free!
February 6th, 2014. This is the day everyone who hasn’t paid their rent for the month gets a 3-day notice to pay or vacate. Either you pay your rent within the 3 days of the notice or you may choose to vacate the apartment. Pretty simple. It’s lawfully served facing out on the door – so that anyone can walk by and see it, especially the resident in question. If they are embarrassed by this, that’s not my problem. It’s properly served. People don’t like it and my response to them when they complain is that it’s properly served and if they don’t like it, they should pay their rent on time. *and I smile and wish them a nice day*
This particular resident has been a problem for me since I took over management of this property. She pays late EVERY MONTH. Promises to pay by a certain day, I have to call her because she didn’t bring the money…it goes on for weeks at a time. WEEKS. She always has a story – and because she’s NEVER made good on her promise to pay me when she says she’s going to. Not once. About 2 months ago – she owed me 3 months of rent – timing of the courts caused the delay of getting her kicked out and she eventually paid me every penny she owed. This time – she’s behind 2 months worth of rent. She told me in February that she had cancer…
She said she was going to pay on a certain day. It came and went. I called, she said she’d pay on a certain day and her daughter had a seizure and she was in the hospital. It came and went. She said that she got in a car accident. This happened 3 separate times. On the 11th of February, I turned her file over to our eviction attorney to deal with her and get her out once and for all. SEE? I’m such a bitch. But every time she says she’s going to pay – something pops up. I have no idea if she’s telling me the truth and the last time she walked into my office, the second she stepped into the room I said, “Where is your rent money?” She starts whining about something…”I honestly don’t want to hear about your personal problems right now. You need to pay your rent or move.” She says, “Please stop the eviction…I don’t know what to do.” I said, “For starters, you can pay your rent. IN FULL. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I am NOT going to stop the eviction – if you show up with your back rent and ALL legal fees, I’ll CONSIDER stopping it – until then, I suggest you look for another place to live. if you intend to pay – call the eviction attorney to get your total balance because now, there are legal fees that amount to about another months rent.” I wanted to shoo her out of my office, but I resisted the urge to use that hand-shooing motion and just told her our conversation was over.
That’s the news from the apartment complex – you’re pretty much up-to-date. Fee free to leave hate comments because I’ve evicting a supposed cancer patient. I can already tell I’ll get some – but who knows…? She may have been lying about it. Just like she lies about when she’s going to be paying her motherfucking RENT!
This is an old draft that I just found buried in my drafts folder….where I usually stash things that I need to sleep on before I commit to throwing it out into the interwebosphere. Fuck you – spellcheck. I just made that shit up – INTERWEBOSPHERE! Blam!
So this is when I worked at that other crazy property before I moved to the one I manage now. If you’re keeping track – and care – and stuff.
People are fucking weird.
This week is one for the record books.
Kids pooping on the floor of one of my laundry rooms at the apartment complex, and now? Some whackadoodle lady just called and bitched for 15 minutes about the kids climbing the tree outside of her apartment.
She opened the conversation with:
This is “Whackadoodle” and I’ve spoken to an attorney and I’m giving you the courtesy of one last phone call. The children playing outside at the playground are a bunch of screaming banchees and I’m getting sick of it.
Then she starts quoting the lease to me about the infractions that her attorney highlighted for her. Letting me know that if it continues that she will proceed with her attorney.
When I asked her what she was hoping an attorney would accomplish, she stated to me that she was going to pursue legal action with the children. M’kaaaaaayyy…like calling me to “let me know” was threatening me in some way - a courtesy call. I was all, “Okay – I agree with you. Go after the kids! If you need me to testify, I’m all over it!” What-thefuck-Ever lady…bring on the crazy.
The kids never act like this when I’m here M-F 9-5. She said it’s as if they send each other signals or something when my car leaves the property. When I walk out to the playground, the kids all stand up a bit straighter and watch me like a hawk – usually there’s a couple that I like to call, “The Informers” – they run right up to me and tell me about “Little Jimmy” pooping on the laundry room floor or how someone pulled their pants down and showed off their naughty bits on the playground. Or how they are throwing rocks, or kitting kids with sticks.
It’s not as if I’m not addressing the children when they misbehave around here – and I don’t even think that it’s my place to do so – I’d much prefer to yell at their parents, but since they like to climb the trees on my property, I walk out and help them out of the trees and request to them that they not climb them again. I’ve already taken up the battle with “Little Jimmy’s” parents because he pooped on my laundry room floor. BEE TEE DUBS: He’s being punished by his father. The punishment? Cleaning the apartment complex grounds every day for the next two weeks. Sweet punishment, Dad. My maintenance guy is happy – now he can take a break from walking around with his little extendo-grabby thingy and a bucket.
I have a few “What in the HOLY HELL” moments for you.
- When you go through a drive-thru and ask for “a bunch of ketchup” and they give you TWO MOTHERFUCKING KETCHUP PACKETS?! Is there a shortage? Is there a contest to see who can have the most ketchup still in their box at the end of the day? Perhaps I need to be more specific – I NEED 8 KETCHUP PACKETS PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!
- You order nachos at a restaurant – they bring it to you on a platter worthy of your Thanksgiving Turkey and the container holding the EVER-POPULAR salsa condiment contains about 3 tablespoons of that glorious nectar. “Would it be possible to get A LOT more salsa, please?” Sure – the waitress says…followed by placing 3 more tablespoons of salsa next to your Mount Everest sized platter of nachos.
- Why are fast food restaurants so stingy with the napkins? You get up to the drive-thru window and it’s BLATANTLY OBVIOUS that you’re on a road trip – your car is PACKED TO THE GILLS, kids crammed in the back seat, dogs sitting on top of whatever they can plop their butt on – FAMILY OF 4 – and they give you 3 napkins.
- This may just be me, but have you ever gone out for a night on the town – or simply to dinner – and had the ultimate goal of getting just a tad bit shitfaced that night? So you order a drink. You consume that drink. You’re with your significant other, they ordered a drink and finished that drink as well, and the waitress comes to the table and asks your significant other if they want another drink, but they COMPLETELY FUCKING IGNORE YOU – AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF? THEY TAKE YOUR EMPTY FUCKING MARGARITA GLASS?!?
- Do you know the difference between a blended Strawberry Margarita and a Strawberry Daqueri? I’ll tell you. One is made with tequila and one is made with rum. I’m not a fan of tequila. 95% of the time I order a Strawberry Daqueri? I get a Strawberry Margarita. I drink it every time, but it’s gotten to be quite the joke around the dinner table when the hubby and I go out.
Do you have any glorious WHAT IN THE HOLY HELL moments you’d like to share in the comment section? I cannot WAIT to see what you all have to say.
My favorite pastime lately, has been to STICK IT TO DA MAN! I live in Tacoma, WA – famous for it’s “Aroma” which came from the pulp and wood mills back in the day – sometimes you can still smell it if you wink your left eye, raise your right eyebrow and stick your tongue out a little while biting down ever-so-gently. BUT THAT IS NEITHER HERE NOR THERE! Oh – and you can stop making that face, you dork. This post will probably not be for everyone and I would like to disclaim from the get-go that:
- I’m not a psycho environmentalist whackadoo – but if you are, I respect it and won’t harsh your mellow, man.
- The intent for my involvement is that I want to stop our local newspaper from trashing our neighborhoods – Tacoma gets a bad enough wrap as it is – we’ve turned this town around from the Gang-Banger-Drive-By-Shooting-City that is was in the 80′s and 90′s to a place that you’re actually getting more and more proud to call home.
- I do not EVER want this local newspaper company to go under, bankrupt, out of business or anything negative like that…
Having said all of that…
About a month ago, we received our first copy of “Extra”. We noticed it firstly because of the GORGEOUS orange plastic bag that it was wrapped in.
Secondly, we noticed it because it was delivered to us by being thrown in the street in front of the houses on my block. All of them. And also those in the surrounding blocks as well. That, in itself, caused several of us in our meticulously (except for that one bitches house who doesn’t mow her lawn and that requires my hubby to do it because we don’t want the block to look like shit) kept neighborhood a case of severe heartburn. After a very cursory viewing of the contents of the orange plastic bag, we realized quickly that we were the victims of our local newspapers (The Tacoma News Tribune) way to get around the advertisers having to pay postage, by this cost-effective way to distribute their ads to the public en masse. We’re not just talking a few houses here folks…we’re talking 50,000 pieces of ad papers – NO NEWS CONTENT – delivered to these homes on a weekly basis. Feast your eyes on this:
Now…we, of course, as a community attempted to contact the newspaper directly asking that this be stopped and were met with a pretty condescending attitude towards the issue at hand. And in case you missed what the issue here is? The issue is that they are delivering this “crappy orange plastic wrapped ad” to our streets, sidewalks, gutters and storm drains – pretty much everywhere BUT the property of the intended recipient. And because we have such a close-knit community and neighborhood – when we were met with the “I don’t give a shit” attitude from a local newspaper’s CEO that should have a VESTED INTEREST in keeping it’s readership happy-happy-happy, instead, we were told to “opt-out” – seems simple enough, right? Only they asked for our name, address and phone number so that they could prove we were who we said we were. EX-FUCKING-CUSE ME? You’re not getting my phone number and you’re lucky you’re getting my name – stop throwing your shit on the street of my neighborhood. Seems pretty simple. Oh – I should probably disclose to you that I do not – and HAVE NOT – subscribed to this newspaper. We’re getting these crappy orange plastic wrapped ads whether we want them or not – UNSOLICITED. Many have tried to opt-out of the deliveries – but to no avail. After expressing our disappointment, we were dumbfounded that nothing was going to be done. We had contacted code enforcement, our city council members, I have a few law enforcement pals asking them if they thought this was right or if we could do anything about it. We were not given many options in the beginning. They are claiming “Free Speech” and that they are a protected class with regards to the litter laws. Because over the span of a two-week period we were pretty much brushed under the rug, a lightbulb went off.
So what does a community do with a very prominent corporation, that probably has the city government in their back pocket, who is blatantly defacing the very neighborhoods that it serves? This:
A group of concerned citizens decided to “Return to Sender” these bags. We collected over 1000 from the streets, gutters and storm drains of our fair city and met in the parking lot of the local paper. And the above picture is the result of that visit. We had attempted to contact our local news stations out of Seattle and they aired our story later that evening (which – I should point out was the NIGHT BEFORE THE SUPERBOWL…and our SEATTLE SEAHAWKS WERE PLAYING THE NEXT DAY and the news station still felt it was newsworthy!): (because I have no idea how to embed a video anymore, click this very long link that will show you the news story)
We now sit one month later, one city council meeting later – where our group showed up to speak in the public forum, there has been a resolution by the city requiring that the city manager speak with the TNT to come up with a way to do this differently and our group of citizens concerned about this growing by leaps and bounds. The “Return to Sender” campaign is still happening on Saturday mornings. I’ll end this rant with last weekends “Return to Sender” gathering, because it fucking ROCKS!
Yes, those are octopi, created out of the crappy orange plastic wrapped ads that have been deposited all over our city. And a fish. And a cool spider webby looking contraption dangling over their sign.
For reasons semi-personal in nature (kids, full-time job, also – I’m not as whackadoo when it comes to the environmental side of this and I just don’t want to be part of the daily goings on…it was quite the time-suck in the beginning and I was getting bitter and cranky), I’ve taken more of a back-seat in the leadership of this group, but I stand united with them in the effort to get porch delivery.
I’ve been getting TONS (not bragging AT ALL) of follows lately.
The hell? I mean, thanks and all, but some of you seem waaaaaaaay too nice to be following my profanity laden blog. There are tons of people with actual GREAT BLOGS, poets, true writers…I mean…I do this for fun and to make fun of my job and even some friends of mine….shit, I even do it so that I don’t spontaneously combust from all the bullshit drama I’m face with on the daily.
I can’t figure it out! Can you enlighten me? No, this isn’t a moment for you to stroke what little ego I may or may not have. That’s not the point. You all just seem so nice…
Okay – thanks! Love you oodles and gobs and THANK YOU for following my trashy little blog. I’ll try not to let you down…or maybe I’ll try harder to let you down. You know…whatevs…