Powerball madness, y’all.

Did you get your tickets yet? Do you live somewhere that doesn’t HAVE Powerball? Sucks to be you, eh? I mean…It’s $1.5 BBBBBBBBillion Dollaires. That’s BILLION. WITH A “B”!

I just had this conversation with my husband via The Facebook Messenger:

9:49am

Hubs: I have the vertigo this morning!
Me: uh-oh.
Me: hydrate.
Hubs: yep
Hubs: I did eat an orange
Me: Maybe we’re gonna have an earthquake.
Much like dogs can sense earthquakes and no one knows why – or maybe they do and I just don’t remember the reason…
Hubs: Maybe it’s Powerball fever
Me: Maybe! I should get a couple tickets.
Hubs: Won’t work.
The fuck?!
Hubs: Spadafore has the winning ticket
“Spadafore” is a buddy of his at work…
Hubs: and he’s not sharing the numbers
Stingy bastard, that Spadafore…
Me: He’s lying.
Me: Everyone says that.
Hubs: huh
Hubs: When it went from 1.3 to 1.5, he said I could have the $200 million
Me: I’d rather be the one to give HIM the 200 Mil.
It’s simple math, really…I mean…duh.
Me: So…
Me: nice try.
Hubs: okay
Me: And…uh…if he DOES have the winning numbers, then…the deal is STILL ON.
I amaze even myself, you guys…I’m fucking brilliant.
Me: Sneaky, right?
Hubs: very
I don’t like his tone.
P.S. This is probably the first thing I’d buy with my winnings:
dollar-signs-bling-ring

I’m pretty sure it says somewhere in the fine print on the back of the tickets that you are 100% obligated to buy one of these rings when you win the lottery.

Misophonia – It’s a “thing”, y’all. Look it up.

It happens against my will. It’s almost as if I get possessed. One minute I’m fine…the next I’m shooting daggers out of my eyes.

Usually, the first thing that I notice is people chewing their food noisily. At first, I’m able to control my twitchy eye. Breathing exercises work great. After that fails, though…all bets are off.

I drop little hints to those around me starting with that stare with the squinky eye. (Dear spellcheck…squinky IS a word…because I just made it up.) The offender usually senses this look…stops chewing for a moment, then says something like, “What?” to which I respond, “Oh…nothing…” hoping they get the hint. When that fails I go a little bit more passive-aggressive-aggressive.

Do those Funyuns taste good?!

I’m usually met with, “They sure do, want some?” I respectfully decline.

It will typically escalate from there. Here are ways that I will attempt to drown out or get them to stop:

  1. Turn on my music at my desk or turn on the TV.
  2. When that doesn’t work, I’ll turn up the volume so that I drown out that god-forsaken sound from my head.
  3. I remind myself that I love the person making this goddamned noise and sometimes that works…most of the time it does not.
  4. Slamming of dishes ensues.
  5. I will literally throw a fork onto my plate causing a scene making everyone nervous and occasionally they will leave the room.
  6. Heavy sighs work the best, I’ve found. And if you accompany the squinky eye and the stare-down, the offender knows you mean business.
  7. The final straw comes when I have had enough. Usually directed at my poor sweet husband or my BFF who both love me unconditionally and are the worst offenders. These two people love me DISPITE my shortcomings and weird quirks. I typically lose it completely.

The conversation will begin with the look. And my reactions exponentially get ballsy-er from there:

  • Blank stare while simultaneously freezing in place causing a silence in my general direction that is immediately noticed and the sense of being watched rather intensely is completely palpable.
  • They look in my direction, usually freezing in mid-chew. Let’s not forget, these people know me. They know exactly what this look means.
  • They say, “What?” – I say, “I’m literally going to stab you and to go prison if you don’t figure out how to chew more softly.” They say, “I’m just eating.” – I say, “Fine! YOU EAT AND I’LL GO LOOK FOR A KNIFE!”
  • They say, “You need to calm down.” – I say, “What would you like on your headstone? ‘Here lies Mr. Sassy, his wife murdered him because he wouldn’t chew softly and she fucking had had enough, already.'”*

In the end, I make my point. And a few days later, I feel really bad that I went so nutso about it – but SERIOUSLY.

* Don’t you fucking love it when you get to use “had had” in a sentence?! I do. Especially if it ends up on a head stone.

 

Apartment Manager Tales: Don’t come crying to me…

It’s the 21st of the month y’all. If you haven’t paid your rent by now…when the fuck ARE you going to pay it?!

I called a lady today and told her that if she didn’t get her rent into me by the time I get here tomorrow – we have a night drop – that I was going to send her paperwork to the attorney for eviction.

You’re thinking to yourself, “Damn, Sassy…you’re a bitch!”

Yeah, well…here’s a little background. Previous managers here have apparently been letting this woman get away with this for QUITE some time…and it’s continued since I’ve managed here because, well…a precedence has been set. 48 times this woman has been late with her rent. FORTY-EIGHT. Let that sink in for a minute, you guys.

Like I said, I called her and said it had to be here tomorrow when I got here or her paperwork is being sent to the attorney. Which will incur legal fees, because evictions aren’t cheap.

She says to me, “But Sassy…can’t you help me out?”

No, I can’t. You told me first, that you’d pay it on the 11th. Then you told me you’d pay it on the 18th. Now you’re telling me you’re going to pay it on the 25th? I’ve helped you by giving you 21 days to pay your rent. I will not allow 22 days. If it’s not here when I get here in the morning, you will be sent for eviction. This has gone on long enough! (…extreeeeeeemely long pause of silence – if I learned anything, the art of winning a battle is the first person that breaks the silence loses. I rarely lose these stand-offs…)

So you’re not going to help me out, huh?

I’ve already helped you out – now you need to help me out. Pay your rent or move out. Period. (…more silence…I win.)

How long does this take?

The paperwork that the process server gives you will explain what you need to do. (more silence…I win again, bitches!)

So if I pay you Friday anyway, will you take it?

Not unless the attorney advises me to do so. There will be legal fees that will become part of your balance due.

Ooooh…okay…

 

Days like this make me want to slam my face onto my desk. Hard.

Let me talk REEEEEEEAAAAALLL SLOW, so you can understand…

11wD2RW

One of my residents short-paid his rent – which means…let’s say it was $939 ($899 rent + $40 water/sewer/garbage) and he only gave me a check for $855. So I called him today to explain that he has a balance owing and he argued that he dropped his rent “on time”…to which I replied, “Yes, your check for $855 was considered ‘on time’ only…it didn’t cover your balance IN FULL, now you owe me $84 + $16 in late fees totaling $100. When are you going to bring that over to us?”

AW MAN! I don’t know how I did that! I don’t understand, I need to make sure I have $100 left in my account!”

*what I was saying in my head…* Yeah…well…get on that shit, because you need to get your money in here, PRONTO.

He comes in and gives me $100. THEEEEEEEEENNNNNN….he calls me 20 minutes later.

Yeah…I have a question. I should have $15 somewhere over there as a credit.

Me: *hey, that’s not a question…it was more of a statement – an incorrect one at that…* How do you figure that?

My water sewer garbage is $40 and my rent is $899. I gave you a check for $855 and another one for $100.

Me: Yes, and you had a late fee of $16.

That should have gone to my water, sewer, garbage – right?

Me: No – the total owing you should have given me ON TIME would have been $939. You only gave me $855.

Right…so…where’s my $15.

Me: *brain exploding all over my office* Listen – it might be easier for you to stop by the office so I can show you the accounting of this in black and white, or you can write this down as I speak to you. Your RENT was $899. Your water, sewer, garbage was $40. That totals $939. You dropped a check for $855. That left you a balance of $84. Because you didn’t pay your rent IN FULL and ON TIME, you owe late fees of 20% on the balance due – that’s $16 in late fees. $84 + $16 = $100. There is no overpayment, there’s no credit due, you paid in full and your balance is now $0.00. You’re starting FRESH. Zero balance.

Yeah…ok…whatever.

You guys…just pay your motherfucking rent on time…it makes life so much easier.

 

Apartment Manager Tales: El Gallo! And broken windows…

20150827_150809_resized

El Gallo – aka The Motherfucking Rooster.

EL GALLO!!!!!!! a.k.a. The Motherfucking ROOSTER that one of my residents at my apartment complex has been keeping mostly in their van – but also in their APARTMENT. Yeah…let that sink in for a minute…

Let me paint you a picture – let’s rewind about 5 months ago…

We get a call from a concerned resident that there appears to be a Rooster making noise closeby. Complaining of early morning COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOOOO’s and the accompanying rooster sounds that one assumes a rooster to do. We say – well? Where is it coming from?

THE VAN!!!

So, being the amazing managers that we – my co-worker – and I are, we spoke to the resident who was in possession of the rooster and calmly stated that this was against our rules and that they needed to get rid of the rooster.

Assuming that’s the last we’d hear about it – because – YOU CANNOT FUCKING HAVE A DAMN ROOSTER IN AN APARTMENT! And also – if it were a metal rooster – much like my blog idol Jenny Lawson covets…that’s one thing…that, I can deal with – and coincidentally – IT’S NOT AGAINST THE RULES TO HAVE A METAL ROOSTER IN YOUR APARTMENT.

But. I. Digress.

You’d think that simple phone call was all that was needed, right? Not so fast there, bub. Not. Even. Close.

2 months later…I get a call – and I’m paraphrasing here…

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggg……

Moi: Yo, Sassyland Apartments, this is Sassy…S’up?

Neighbor to the Illegal Rooster People: The Rooster. Is in their apartment. Again.

Moi: You have GOT to be GODDAMNED KIDDING ME!!!!!

Neighbor to the Illegal Rooster People: Nope. It got loose the other day and they were chasing it around the parking lot

So…this time I wait for them to come in and pay rent. This is going to need some face to face action…I can tell. Also? I use my handy-dandy maintenance dude for his Spanish Speaking Skills…I love him – and I’ll tell you why: HE REPEATS EVERYTHING I SAY!!! INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO; hand gestures, raising of my voice, and the scowl I get when I look at people like they are stupid. He’s pretty cool, you guys.

So, I say what needs to be said and he translates and they are 100% clear on what I’ve instructed them to do.

1 month later…my maintenance guy calls me on a Thursday and says:

EL GALLO IS HERE IN THE VAN RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! After I recovered from giving myself a facepalm, I consulted with my co-worker and we decided to call Animal Control. AND GUESS WHAT?! They came out within about 10 minutes of us calling – curiously enough, it takes the police about 20 minutes to get here when I call about a Domestic Violence situation – considering this was a stupid rooster, I’ll be lucky if I see someone show up at all…and also there was jokes about firing up the BBQ (from them, not me) – so…next thing you know…they actually SHOW UP!

The get to the apartment and the guy is SOOOOOO pissed. He doesn’t want to give them his I.D. – he doesn’t let them in, he won’t go to the van to show them, so the Animal Control people call the police to come out.

The police get there and as they go to walk up to the apartment they tap on the van and the rooster makes a noise. At this point, they weren’t 100% sure it was in the van – but NOW they know for sure that it IS!

The wife of the angry man came down and opened up the van – and told her husband to back off because he followed her down there and they get it open. They found the rooster in a box, on a hot day…no food or water…and they found something else.

A BABY ROOSTER…..

They wanted our resident to just sign over the rooster to Animal Control and they would not charge him with animal cruelty, but he refused. Now, he’s being charged.

Not only did we tell him on three separate occasions to get rid of the rooster – but at some point – he thought it would be a GREAT idea to get ANOTHER ONE! Can you believe the cajones on this guy?!

So Friday rolls around and I get to work – as I walk up to my French doors – which are glass paned, I see crackled glass and a hole. “Someone” broke the glass in our French doors to the office. I’m not pointing any fingers or anything – but it sure seems like a coincidence to me.

I love my job. Something tells me this is not the end of this story.

 

 

 

Happy Anniversary to ME, from WordPress and ROOSTERS.

It’s been 4 years of sporadic posting, hilarity and profanity here in Sassyland. I need to thank those of you that actually read this drivel, for without you, I surely would have given up long ago.

And while we are on the subject of giving up…my newest frustration comes in the form of a ROOSTER.

Yep! You read that right. I have a tenant that will NOT get rid of the Rooster they have had staying in their van for the last several months. Apparently, they have had him since he was just a little wee chicky. And it’s their pet. I KNOW, YOU GUYS!

Well, about 8 months ago, I reported in this VERY BLOG, about this rooster that was living in their van. They were asked back then to get rid of it because we don’t allow FARM ANIMALS on the property. It’s not just an apartment rule…it’s also a city ordinance. So, you know…GET RID OF IT. Only, they moved it from their van to their apartment. Yep.

I got a call from one of my other tenants the other day telling me that there is a rooster in the apartment above hers and crows in the wee morning hours and makes all sorts of racket up in the apartment.

And the other day, it got loose in the parking lot and they were chasing it all over the place for like, 1/2 an hour!

And so, after I stopped laughing – because when someone tells you that there is a chicken on the loose in the parking lot and there are grown people chasing it and you DON’T LAUGH? You’ve got to be dead inside. After I stopped laughing – I told her I’d take care of it.

FAST FORWARD TO TODAY – they speak Spanish so, I had my maintenance guy come in to translate for me so there would be NO FURTHER MISUNDERSTANDING regarding this MOTHERFUCKING ROOSTER:

They came in to pay their rent…late…but – whatevs. I took the opportunity to confront them about the damned rooster. Again. It went a little like this:

Me: Let’s talk about the rooster again.

Them: *blank stare*

Me: I told you once before to get rid of the rooster. My co-worker told you to get rid of the rooster two weeks ago.

Them: *averting their eyes*

Me: I will not ask you again to get rid of the rooster. If I hear about that rooster one more time, I’ll evict you. We cannot have roosters living here – in your van OR your apartment. The city doesn’t allow it and neither do I.

Them: Okay, okay, okay.  I’m going to make a house for it. I have a friend that is a cop and he said I can make a house for it.

Me: YOU CANNOT HAVE A HOUSE BUILT FOR A ROOSTER HERE!!!!!!! Why don’t you understand?!?

Them: No, I have a friend that will let me keep it at their house, I’ll make a house for them there. My English no so good.

Me: My Spanish no so good, either, so no rooster here. And it needs to happen RIGHT AWAY! No more ROOSTER.

Them: GOD MADE THE ANIMALS!!!!

Me: Yes, that’s the rumor.

Them: He’s very very pretty.

Me: I’m sure he is. He can be pretty somewhere else, NOT HERE.

Then my co-worker pulled out a can of whoop-ass:

Co-Worker: I told you last week to get rid of the Rooster. Either get rid of him or move out and turn in your keys. This is ridiculous. There’s no more discussion.

Them: What you say?!?! GOD made the animals. God made the animals before He made the humans!

Me: Okay. Just make sure the rooster is gone. I don’t want to have to talk to you about this again.

Them: Ok, ok…GOD BLESS YOU.

Roosters. God damned ROOSTERS. #apartmentmanagerproblems