It has been a while since I have brought a glimpse of my crazy world to you but I got busy and the situation with the landlady got seriously stupid. Yesterday we saw a dip back into whimsical stupidity that this blog is known for. (Benedict Cumberbatch voice) Shall we begin?
Yesterday on of the smoke detectors in the house let us know it's battery was dying by the irritating beep every 2 minutes. I go inform my land lady. Now if you think she came over and changed batteries without incident then you haven't been reading this blog and shame on you. It's funny and a chance for me to vent and cheaper than therapy. Did I also mention it's funny?
I lead her into the room with the offending smoke detector.
Beep.
Landlady:"That's weird there's no smoke."
Yes, because that's what I would do. Lead you into a smoke filled house just to show you that the smoke detector is working.
Me: "No that means the battery is dying and needs to be changed."
She grabs a chair, stands on it and pops the cover off the smoke detector. There she was confronted with a new problem. A nine volt battery.
Landlady: "Is this a battery?"
I quickly glanced around for Ashton Kutcher. I had to be getting Punk'd. There's no way she just asked me that.
Me: "Yes that's a nine volt battery."
Oh, why did I not try to get her to lick the leads? If we're gonna play this game of Dumb and Dumber I may as well have some fun right? Right? Right?
Anyway she asked me where she might find these types of batteries. I told her they are common batteries and can be found anywhere. She leaves for the store and I am treated to 10 minutes of non dumb life.
She returns from the store with the proper batteries and installs them.
Beep.
She comes out into the living room.
Landlady: " I put the battery in but it's still beeping. Can you look at it?"
Did---did she---she asked for help? Maybe she's getting smarter? Perhaps this was just some elaborate form of nine month amnesia? Is this a turning point for us? Will I now shut down my blog because she is now intelligent? The sun seemed to shine brighter. Cartoon birds flew around me. Things were looking up.
I approach the smoke detector and pop the lid off.
"Zeus, Father of Sky and Thunderer---I beg of thee to smite my enemies."
My landlady shoved the battery into the smoke detector and didn't connect the leads to the smoke detector.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Thursday, August 1, 2013
A Tale Of Three Houses
So I am beginning to think I live in a dumb neighborhood. An area where all the dumb people were rounded up and tossed in. Which begs the question am I dumb? Did I get put in here by accident? Is this hell?
I spend all day at home and nothing happens. I go out for the day and all hell breaks loose. My roommates who witnessed the event couldn't wait for me to get home.
"I am high and drunk right now" One roommate said.
"Why?" I replied.
"Because of what happened...."
"What happened?" I asked.
(Insert Wayne's World flash back noise)
A, B, and C. These are the three houses that are part of this drama. I live in the house B.
Backstory:
In house A (actually an apartment) lives a man with the senses of Superman. He can hear a fly gang banging on the top of the Hollywood sign. He has complained about roommates slamming a gate that is between houses B and C.
In house A lives a dumb person...not me.
In house C like a mexican man who looks like he shouldn't be messed with. He plays his music loud in the middle of the day. He seems like a cool guy and tends to get high with the roommates. Now he tends to play a lot of mexican music. My land lady doesn't like this music and went to him a few months ago to turn his music down. Here is how the exchange went.
Landlady: "Turn down your shitty mexican music."
C's only response was to turn it up. This pissed off the Land Lady who threatened to sue him because of his music. I am not sure how far that case would go but then again we live in a country where someone sued a company because the coffee was hot.
Now here are the events of yesterday.
Super hearing "A" heard the music from "C" and thought it was coming from "B". He comes over to our property and begins cussing the Land Lady out over the music. Instead of either one of them figuring out the music was coming from "C" they proceeded to get into a big argument about the music. Finally the two decide to confront "C" about the loud music.
"I suggest you both leave me alone before you have a problem you don't want to have." He told them.
"A" took the hint and quickly got the frak back in his apartment. My Land Lady couldn't catch a hint if someone written it in the sky. She continued to yell at this man who at the time was listening to 2Pac and smoking weed.
"I am gonna call the cops." She said.
"I don't give a fuck. I told you to leave me alone about my music. I didn't say anything when you guys were partying the other night and had the music up." he replied. One of the roommates was leaving and we had a party and played loud music until 6am. The Land Lady tried to come out and party too when the roommate on music played some Metallica. We quickly shifted back to hip hop after seeing her try to dance.
Anyway back to the story. The Land Lady finally went back into her house and shut up. So at what time do you think this all went down? Was it 2am? Was it Midnight?
Nope it was 3pm. The middle of the fricken afternoon. I got home from a photo shoot around 7pm and the music was still going. It stopped an hour later.
I spend all day at home and nothing happens. I go out for the day and all hell breaks loose. My roommates who witnessed the event couldn't wait for me to get home.
"I am high and drunk right now" One roommate said.
"Why?" I replied.
"Because of what happened...."
"What happened?" I asked.
(Insert Wayne's World flash back noise)
A, B, and C. These are the three houses that are part of this drama. I live in the house B.
Backstory:
In house A (actually an apartment) lives a man with the senses of Superman. He can hear a fly gang banging on the top of the Hollywood sign. He has complained about roommates slamming a gate that is between houses B and C.
In house A lives a dumb person...not me.
In house C like a mexican man who looks like he shouldn't be messed with. He plays his music loud in the middle of the day. He seems like a cool guy and tends to get high with the roommates. Now he tends to play a lot of mexican music. My land lady doesn't like this music and went to him a few months ago to turn his music down. Here is how the exchange went.
Landlady: "Turn down your shitty mexican music."
C's only response was to turn it up. This pissed off the Land Lady who threatened to sue him because of his music. I am not sure how far that case would go but then again we live in a country where someone sued a company because the coffee was hot.
Now here are the events of yesterday.
Super hearing "A" heard the music from "C" and thought it was coming from "B". He comes over to our property and begins cussing the Land Lady out over the music. Instead of either one of them figuring out the music was coming from "C" they proceeded to get into a big argument about the music. Finally the two decide to confront "C" about the loud music.
"I suggest you both leave me alone before you have a problem you don't want to have." He told them.
"A" took the hint and quickly got the frak back in his apartment. My Land Lady couldn't catch a hint if someone written it in the sky. She continued to yell at this man who at the time was listening to 2Pac and smoking weed.
"I am gonna call the cops." She said.
"I don't give a fuck. I told you to leave me alone about my music. I didn't say anything when you guys were partying the other night and had the music up." he replied. One of the roommates was leaving and we had a party and played loud music until 6am. The Land Lady tried to come out and party too when the roommate on music played some Metallica. We quickly shifted back to hip hop after seeing her try to dance.
Anyway back to the story. The Land Lady finally went back into her house and shut up. So at what time do you think this all went down? Was it 2am? Was it Midnight?
Nope it was 3pm. The middle of the fricken afternoon. I got home from a photo shoot around 7pm and the music was still going. It stopped an hour later.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
The Drain Game
It has been a while since I have posted and as I have said before I am pretty sure she knows about this blog. She continues to clean in the middle of the night. This morning I woke up to the clues that she had a midnight session. A moldy smelling mop was in the living room and assorted bottles of cleaner were laying about. That's one of the bigger issues I have with her. She never puts things away when she is done with them...and not knowing how to properly clean a house...and misuse of chemicals....
So the other day she was walking through the house and one of the roommates mentioned to her that our shower drain was becoming clogged. It wasn't fully clogged but it was slow to drain. She goes into the bathroom and turns the shower on. She lets the water run for 2 seconds (I counted) and then comes out of the bathroom. I half expected her to tell him there was no clog. However she told him she'd get something for it.
A few days later she comes into the house with a bottle of Drain-O. She hands it to the roommate and tells him to do it because she doesn't know how. As if that stopped her before. However more to the point, if you don't know how to use Drain-O they print the instructions on the back of the bottle.
So the other day she was walking through the house and one of the roommates mentioned to her that our shower drain was becoming clogged. It wasn't fully clogged but it was slow to drain. She goes into the bathroom and turns the shower on. She lets the water run for 2 seconds (I counted) and then comes out of the bathroom. I half expected her to tell him there was no clog. However she told him she'd get something for it.
A few days later she comes into the house with a bottle of Drain-O. She hands it to the roommate and tells him to do it because she doesn't know how. As if that stopped her before. However more to the point, if you don't know how to use Drain-O they print the instructions on the back of the bottle.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Dropping a Bomb in the Toilet
I think my Land Lady is on to me. She is reluctant to clean around me. The things she is responsible for are going undone. Sure we take out the trash and clean up after ourselves but she hasn't been around in a while. The other day I go out to a movie and I come home while she is in the middle of cleaning the bathroom.
I walk past the bathroom and she sees me. She pulls out a box of toilet cleaner. You know the stuff you put in the back of the bowl that makes the water blue. She asks me if it's alright to use it. I tell her yeah.
Later that night she comes into the house with rubber dish washing gloves on. The gloves go to the elbow. In her hands are pair of tongs. In the grip of the tongs' jaws is a round blue toilet cleaner pellet. She is treating it like it's a piece of plutonium. Everyone is looking at her as she slowly maneuvers towards the bathroom. I think she believes its a bomb of some sort. She goes into the bathroom. After several minutes she comes out and tells us not to use the bathroom for ten minutes.
We looked around at each other.
"I bet she put that in the toilet instead of the back" One of my roommates said.
He said what I was thinking. I walked to the bathroom hoping against hope she put it in the back...wishing she didn't because it would make for a hilarious blog. I open the toilet and it's clear. I guess she read the instructions and someone how mixed it with the directions for the bomb she is making????
I walk past the bathroom and she sees me. She pulls out a box of toilet cleaner. You know the stuff you put in the back of the bowl that makes the water blue. She asks me if it's alright to use it. I tell her yeah.
Later that night she comes into the house with rubber dish washing gloves on. The gloves go to the elbow. In her hands are pair of tongs. In the grip of the tongs' jaws is a round blue toilet cleaner pellet. She is treating it like it's a piece of plutonium. Everyone is looking at her as she slowly maneuvers towards the bathroom. I think she believes its a bomb of some sort. She goes into the bathroom. After several minutes she comes out and tells us not to use the bathroom for ten minutes.
We looked around at each other.
"I bet she put that in the toilet instead of the back" One of my roommates said.
He said what I was thinking. I walked to the bathroom hoping against hope she put it in the back...wishing she didn't because it would make for a hilarious blog. I open the toilet and it's clear. I guess she read the instructions and someone how mixed it with the directions for the bomb she is making????
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Paranormal Dumbtivity
Welcome to another installment of Shit My Land Lady Says. Today's episode is extremely scary. To read further is to risk sanity and wits. Nah who am I fooling? You stayed with it this long you might as well read further.
Monday, July 8th, 3AM. For some reason I can't sleep. Something has spooked me but I don't know what it is. I feel evil eyes are watching me. I go into the living room and turn on Comedy Central. Laughing will soothe my troubled soul. I hear a noise in the kitchen. No one should be up. Oh Hell no. I go back to bed. Yes that's right, I am not going to find out what it is. It might be the cat-boy from The Grudge or the girl from The Ring or the puppet on a tricycle from Saw. I realize I watch way too many scary movies. I close my eyes and let the soothe sounds of Maxwell carry me to sleep.
That morning something is amiss. I can't put my finger on it but something is not right. I shrug it off. I ain't got time for a haunted house.
Tuesday, July 7th, 2AM. I can hear movement in the living room. I lay in my bed frightened. Everyone is bed. Who or what is moving around this house? Is it The Blair Witch? I pull the covers over my head. What kind of man am I?
Wednesday, July 8th, 2AM. Right on cue the noises start up again. I decide to man the 'F' up. I slowly approach the bed room door. A shuffling noise can be heard out in the living room. I decide to man the 'F' down and go back to bed. Black people don't fair well in horror movies.
For the rest of the week we've had no activity. I thought the worst was behind me. I Thought wrong.
Monday, July 15th, 8AM. I wake up that morning and notice a hazy shine to the floor. There is an acrid chemical smell to the air. Did someone mop?
Tuesday, July 16th, 2AM. A loud noise wakes me. Is this it? Is this the moment when I confront the demon in my house? There is a strange light just outside my door. I am tired of being afraid. I open the door and come face to face with a horror straight from hell....
...my Land Lady cleaning. I guess she is now aware of the inadequate process that she uses to clean the house and now decides to clean while we are sleeping. This scares me to no end. She had to be told not to use Ammonia and Bleach together. What other chemical concoction could she be mixing while I sleep? And who uses and green flash light to clean the house in the middle of the night....and by green I mean the light is green not the flashlight cover?
Monday, July 8th, 3AM. For some reason I can't sleep. Something has spooked me but I don't know what it is. I feel evil eyes are watching me. I go into the living room and turn on Comedy Central. Laughing will soothe my troubled soul. I hear a noise in the kitchen. No one should be up. Oh Hell no. I go back to bed. Yes that's right, I am not going to find out what it is. It might be the cat-boy from The Grudge or the girl from The Ring or the puppet on a tricycle from Saw. I realize I watch way too many scary movies. I close my eyes and let the soothe sounds of Maxwell carry me to sleep.
That morning something is amiss. I can't put my finger on it but something is not right. I shrug it off. I ain't got time for a haunted house.
Tuesday, July 7th, 2AM. I can hear movement in the living room. I lay in my bed frightened. Everyone is bed. Who or what is moving around this house? Is it The Blair Witch? I pull the covers over my head. What kind of man am I?
Wednesday, July 8th, 2AM. Right on cue the noises start up again. I decide to man the 'F' up. I slowly approach the bed room door. A shuffling noise can be heard out in the living room. I decide to man the 'F' down and go back to bed. Black people don't fair well in horror movies.
For the rest of the week we've had no activity. I thought the worst was behind me. I Thought wrong.
Monday, July 15th, 8AM. I wake up that morning and notice a hazy shine to the floor. There is an acrid chemical smell to the air. Did someone mop?
Tuesday, July 16th, 2AM. A loud noise wakes me. Is this it? Is this the moment when I confront the demon in my house? There is a strange light just outside my door. I am tired of being afraid. I open the door and come face to face with a horror straight from hell....
...my Land Lady cleaning. I guess she is now aware of the inadequate process that she uses to clean the house and now decides to clean while we are sleeping. This scares me to no end. She had to be told not to use Ammonia and Bleach together. What other chemical concoction could she be mixing while I sleep? And who uses and green flash light to clean the house in the middle of the night....and by green I mean the light is green not the flashlight cover?
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Real Men With Guns
Ok....so I had mentioned that I have a roommate who is hetero-phobic. However I didn't blog about it because it's a sensitive subject and I didn't want to be perceive as making fun of someone because they are gay. That being said:
I have a roommate who we will call 'Gold'. Gold moved into the compound and instantly had an attitude with people. You'd say hi to him and he'd huff and puff and if a girl said anything to him he'd roll his eyes. Eventually we just left him alone because he was acting like a dick. Word reached us that he didn't like us (the straight men of the house) because we reminded him of the guys who picked on him in school. Wow. I was just sexually profiled. It was new to me. I've been racially profiled before but this was some 'Christopher Columbus in uncharted waters' type shit to me. We were amused but we still left dude alone. You can be gay, you just can't be a dick. I am sure you are laughing that I used the words 'gay' and 'dick' in the same sentence and I can assure you I am quite amused too.
So a few weeks ago we had some female Mexican (from Mexico) dancers move into the house. Debbie Reynold's dance studio is a block from the house and the artist compound I am staying at is the perfect spot to stay at for a few weeks. Now to say that these girls are nice looking is an understatement. They are fine. These girls stay in America for the summer while they go to school so another roommate and I know these girls from last summer. So we had a welcome back to the house party for them. So we are in the backyard, drinking and chatting when Gold comes outside.
Gold begins hurling a tirade of insults at us and the girls that was borderline racist but all the way hetero-phobic. I wish to Tom Cruise that I could remember what he said but I think my brain had trouble wrapping my mind around what I was going through that his words came out as gibberish. I am pretty sure he called me a 'Nerf-herder' and other than being a really cool Star Wars reference I don't know what that means. I don't have 'nerfs' nor do I know how to herd them.
So our Land Lady jumped to action and really if you think this is going to end without their being some really awkward conversation then I must say welcome you to my blog because this must be the first time you are reading it. Go read the first ones and then come back. We'll wait.
So Land Lady talks to him and word comes back that he is jealous of the girls because they get all our attention. Well we weren't giving him attention because he is a dick...and we are straight.
Fast forward to today, July 14th 2013, Gold has to move from the loft to one of the houses to consolidate space. He has a choice between the front house (where we all are) and the back house where the land lady lives. While making this decision the land lady tells him:
"Don't mess with the guys in the front house because they are really real grown ass men...with guns."
I am pretty sure that saying those words together at the same time constitutes as a hate crime. Not only did she communicate a threat to him on our behalf (I'm sure house unity will improve now) but she punctuated it with weapons. Now we don't feel any ill will towards Gold. I take a pretty old school stance with life: "Don't F with me and I won't F with you." However this guy may think at anytime we may recreate the end of "Boyz In The Hood" with him getting blasted.
Do you know how hard it is to be a 40-ish year old black male with no record or stints in jail? Damn this land lady....damn damn damn.....
I have a roommate who we will call 'Gold'. Gold moved into the compound and instantly had an attitude with people. You'd say hi to him and he'd huff and puff and if a girl said anything to him he'd roll his eyes. Eventually we just left him alone because he was acting like a dick. Word reached us that he didn't like us (the straight men of the house) because we reminded him of the guys who picked on him in school. Wow. I was just sexually profiled. It was new to me. I've been racially profiled before but this was some 'Christopher Columbus in uncharted waters' type shit to me. We were amused but we still left dude alone. You can be gay, you just can't be a dick. I am sure you are laughing that I used the words 'gay' and 'dick' in the same sentence and I can assure you I am quite amused too.
So a few weeks ago we had some female Mexican (from Mexico) dancers move into the house. Debbie Reynold's dance studio is a block from the house and the artist compound I am staying at is the perfect spot to stay at for a few weeks. Now to say that these girls are nice looking is an understatement. They are fine. These girls stay in America for the summer while they go to school so another roommate and I know these girls from last summer. So we had a welcome back to the house party for them. So we are in the backyard, drinking and chatting when Gold comes outside.
Gold begins hurling a tirade of insults at us and the girls that was borderline racist but all the way hetero-phobic. I wish to Tom Cruise that I could remember what he said but I think my brain had trouble wrapping my mind around what I was going through that his words came out as gibberish. I am pretty sure he called me a 'Nerf-herder' and other than being a really cool Star Wars reference I don't know what that means. I don't have 'nerfs' nor do I know how to herd them.
So our Land Lady jumped to action and really if you think this is going to end without their being some really awkward conversation then I must say welcome you to my blog because this must be the first time you are reading it. Go read the first ones and then come back. We'll wait.
So Land Lady talks to him and word comes back that he is jealous of the girls because they get all our attention. Well we weren't giving him attention because he is a dick...and we are straight.
Fast forward to today, July 14th 2013, Gold has to move from the loft to one of the houses to consolidate space. He has a choice between the front house (where we all are) and the back house where the land lady lives. While making this decision the land lady tells him:
"Don't mess with the guys in the front house because they are really real grown ass men...with guns."
I am pretty sure that saying those words together at the same time constitutes as a hate crime. Not only did she communicate a threat to him on our behalf (I'm sure house unity will improve now) but she punctuated it with weapons. Now we don't feel any ill will towards Gold. I take a pretty old school stance with life: "Don't F with me and I won't F with you." However this guy may think at anytime we may recreate the end of "Boyz In The Hood" with him getting blasted.
Do you know how hard it is to be a 40-ish year old black male with no record or stints in jail? Damn this land lady....damn damn damn.....
Thursday, July 11, 2013
WTF Did I Just Watch?
There comes a time in human history that a person is confronted with the biggest evidence of stupidity that bottles the mind. Yes, bottles. You've seen something so incredible your mind bottles it up (thank you Blades of Glory). I hesitate to tell you because you will not believe me. Even after I show you the pictures your brain will not allow you to process it. One percent of the people reading this will lose their mind. I apologize for that. I need the readers and would never purposefully hurt anyone of you.
For the past few days Los Angeles took a break from the oppressive heat and decided to take one for the team and let it rain. Temperatures went from 200 degrees in the shade to a manageable 77 degrees. Today was an especially rainy day.
And that is why my Land Lady thought it would be the perfect time.....TO WASH THE !@#$%^ING CEMENT!!!!!
Because God, Allah, Zeus or Rainbow Brite wasn't doing the job fast enough for her. At first I didn't realize what was going on thinking the rushing water I heard was rain. NO!. It's her with the hose washing the pavement.
Yes I can see you chuckling, laughing to yourself and shaking your head...."There is no way someone would do that." You say.
My response: "Exactly." This sh!t is so bat sh!t crazy that I am sure any moment now I will start typing gibberish dcfdvyiwduh[o'bdedaPKWDN3IW8HD]Qpwdjoalwmd,sdc, v !!!!!!!
This is her using the broom to scrub the backyard...and yes thats the same broom she uses to sweep the house.
In her hand is a container of Comet. She pours it on the ground and scrubs it with the broom.
Cleaning in the rain.....
For the past few days Los Angeles took a break from the oppressive heat and decided to take one for the team and let it rain. Temperatures went from 200 degrees in the shade to a manageable 77 degrees. Today was an especially rainy day.
And that is why my Land Lady thought it would be the perfect time.....TO WASH THE !@#$%^ING CEMENT!!!!!
Because God, Allah, Zeus or Rainbow Brite wasn't doing the job fast enough for her. At first I didn't realize what was going on thinking the rushing water I heard was rain. NO!. It's her with the hose washing the pavement.
Yes I can see you chuckling, laughing to yourself and shaking your head...."There is no way someone would do that." You say.
My response: "Exactly." This sh!t is so bat sh!t crazy that I am sure any moment now I will start typing gibberish dcfdvyiwduh[o'bdedaPKWDN3IW8HD]Qpwdjoalwmd,sdc, v !!!!!!!
This is her using the broom to scrub the backyard...and yes thats the same broom she uses to sweep the house.
In her hand is a container of Comet. She pours it on the ground and scrubs it with the broom.
Cleaning in the rain.....
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Clean Concrete
Now you'd think that after the few posts about my Land Lady that she couldn't clean soap. However there is one thing that she cleans to the best of her ability.
The concrete in our back yard.
Daily she is seen sweeping the backyard with the same broom she uses on the house. After sweeping the concrete she pours bleach on it and scrubs it with the broom. After which she hoses it off.
One morning she made everyone get up at 7am...and I am pretty sure it was on Saturday...and move their cars so that she could wash under the truck parked in the backyard. Now there is nothing wrong with cleaning your back yard...but not daily....using bleach. Im pretty sure that it's against the rules here in LA to use water like that...because we're in a draught/water shortage...thingie.
The craziest moment came our new roommates were partying the night before and spilled water on the cement. The next day she was seen scrubbing the water off the concrete....using water.
And of course she doesn't clean it all off so when the sun gets hot enough...which is everyday it activates the left over bleach in the cement. So now the backyard can't be a chill spot...because she chopped down the only source of shade (See blog titled: Lord of the Flies) and on a hot day the bleach fumes are pretty strong.
I have probably been exposed to more hazardous chemicals now than my whole Navy career...and I spent 5 years on a ship that had asbestos on it.
The concrete in our back yard.
Daily she is seen sweeping the backyard with the same broom she uses on the house. After sweeping the concrete she pours bleach on it and scrubs it with the broom. After which she hoses it off.
One morning she made everyone get up at 7am...and I am pretty sure it was on Saturday...and move their cars so that she could wash under the truck parked in the backyard. Now there is nothing wrong with cleaning your back yard...but not daily....using bleach. Im pretty sure that it's against the rules here in LA to use water like that...because we're in a draught/water shortage...thingie.
The craziest moment came our new roommates were partying the night before and spilled water on the cement. The next day she was seen scrubbing the water off the concrete....using water.
And of course she doesn't clean it all off so when the sun gets hot enough...which is everyday it activates the left over bleach in the cement. So now the backyard can't be a chill spot...because she chopped down the only source of shade (See blog titled: Lord of the Flies) and on a hot day the bleach fumes are pretty strong.
I have probably been exposed to more hazardous chemicals now than my whole Navy career...and I spent 5 years on a ship that had asbestos on it.
Saturday, July 6, 2013
The Turkey Day Incident"
I have found that there are moments of pure unbridled stupidity that the brain tries to bury any remembrance of it, like the New England Patriots trading in Aaron Hernandez jerseys and changing their logo. Last night as I lay down to sleep and began to take that greyhound bus ride to Sleepy town, a long dormant neuron fired up in my brain. Suddenly I remembered the single greatest dumb thing my land lady did. She cooked us Thanksgiving dinner.
Last Thanksgiving the front office of the artist compound I lived at decided that they would give something back to the people they had been making a small fortune on. It was decided that they would buy us a turkey and all the fixing and we'd celebrate like normal people. I was reluctant at first. Hell they have been promising us a flat screen TV since I have been here. Much to my surprise the food was bought and brought to the house the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. It was decided that we'd eat at 6PM and then moved to 5PM the day before because the new Land Lady (this is around the time that she just got here) wanted everyone to eat and most of the roommates were flying out on late flights the day before T-Day.
So Wednesday comes and everyone leaves for work and last minute shopping. I am at the house working on my thesis script. At about noon I decide to check up on the cooking. I don't know why I did this. I am not an exceptional chef. I can cook somethings but a turkey isn't in my repertoire. I however can hook up a steak like nobodies business. I enter the back house where the cooking is to take place and see that the turkey is out on the stove to thaw. Again I am no expert but I know that cooking a turkey is usually an all day affair. My brain tried to rationalize what my eyes saw. Maybe we aren't eating today and tomorrow we'll wake up to Thanksgiving Breakfast? I asked the Land Lady what time we were eating.
"5PM" was the reply.
"5PM today?" I asked.
"Yeah"
I called one of the roommates at work to confirm which one of us wasn't considering the factors of turkey cooking.
"We're supposed to have Thanksgiving today right?" I asked.
"Yeah why?" He replied.
"You know she hasn't put the turkey in yet." I answered.
"Put the turkey in what?"
"The oven"
"WTF"
4PM rolls around and 'Suzy Homemaker' places the turkey in the oven....for a 5PM meal. The roommates gathered at 5 and the turkey wasn't done. Dinner was pushed to 6....and then 7 and then 8. Around 9PM the roommates that were catching a late flight had to leave so she pulls out all the food and serves it.
I am reminded of the sang Rapper's Delight. Before rap became about hoes and money, rappers rapped about innocent things. Like:
have you ever went over a friends house to eat
and the food just ain't no good
i mean the macaroni's soggy the peas are mushed
and the chicken tastes like wood
Like you know this brother was mad about this meal. Everyone else is rapping about how hard they are, their neighborhood and this guy uses his time on the mic to talk about a bad meal he had.
On Thanksgiving I was that guy. The Turkey was ice-cold. As she carved the turkey she commented on how juicy the turkey was. NO, that's not juice, that's ice. On top of the cold turkey, the gravy was cold and had the consistency of jello. The stuffing also was cold and had a delicate layer of frost to add to the ambiance of the evening. In fact everything was cold except for the potato salad which was left out when 5PM was the meal time.
The roommate who had a plane to catch made a small plate and put it in the microwave to cook. Everyone else followed suit. We ate so that she wouldn't feel bad. Never in the history of Thanksgiving has so many left overs been left over. No one had a second plate.
The next morning I woke up the creature from Alien trying to burst its way out of my stomach. In the other room I could hear groans and moans. In the bathroom one roommate cursed Christopher Columbus and the Pilgrims out.
Now you probably think I am making this up. Well a picture is worth a thousand words.
Last Thanksgiving the front office of the artist compound I lived at decided that they would give something back to the people they had been making a small fortune on. It was decided that they would buy us a turkey and all the fixing and we'd celebrate like normal people. I was reluctant at first. Hell they have been promising us a flat screen TV since I have been here. Much to my surprise the food was bought and brought to the house the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. It was decided that we'd eat at 6PM and then moved to 5PM the day before because the new Land Lady (this is around the time that she just got here) wanted everyone to eat and most of the roommates were flying out on late flights the day before T-Day.
So Wednesday comes and everyone leaves for work and last minute shopping. I am at the house working on my thesis script. At about noon I decide to check up on the cooking. I don't know why I did this. I am not an exceptional chef. I can cook somethings but a turkey isn't in my repertoire. I however can hook up a steak like nobodies business. I enter the back house where the cooking is to take place and see that the turkey is out on the stove to thaw. Again I am no expert but I know that cooking a turkey is usually an all day affair. My brain tried to rationalize what my eyes saw. Maybe we aren't eating today and tomorrow we'll wake up to Thanksgiving Breakfast? I asked the Land Lady what time we were eating.
"5PM" was the reply.
"5PM today?" I asked.
"Yeah"
I called one of the roommates at work to confirm which one of us wasn't considering the factors of turkey cooking.
"We're supposed to have Thanksgiving today right?" I asked.
"Yeah why?" He replied.
"You know she hasn't put the turkey in yet." I answered.
"Put the turkey in what?"
"The oven"
"WTF"
4PM rolls around and 'Suzy Homemaker' places the turkey in the oven....for a 5PM meal. The roommates gathered at 5 and the turkey wasn't done. Dinner was pushed to 6....and then 7 and then 8. Around 9PM the roommates that were catching a late flight had to leave so she pulls out all the food and serves it.
I am reminded of the sang Rapper's Delight. Before rap became about hoes and money, rappers rapped about innocent things. Like:
have you ever went over a friends house to eat
and the food just ain't no good
i mean the macaroni's soggy the peas are mushed
and the chicken tastes like wood
Like you know this brother was mad about this meal. Everyone else is rapping about how hard they are, their neighborhood and this guy uses his time on the mic to talk about a bad meal he had.
On Thanksgiving I was that guy. The Turkey was ice-cold. As she carved the turkey she commented on how juicy the turkey was. NO, that's not juice, that's ice. On top of the cold turkey, the gravy was cold and had the consistency of jello. The stuffing also was cold and had a delicate layer of frost to add to the ambiance of the evening. In fact everything was cold except for the potato salad which was left out when 5PM was the meal time.
The roommate who had a plane to catch made a small plate and put it in the microwave to cook. Everyone else followed suit. We ate so that she wouldn't feel bad. Never in the history of Thanksgiving has so many left overs been left over. No one had a second plate.
The next morning I woke up the creature from Alien trying to burst its way out of my stomach. In the other room I could hear groans and moans. In the bathroom one roommate cursed Christopher Columbus and the Pilgrims out.
Now you probably think I am making this up. Well a picture is worth a thousand words.
After two days of being in the refrigerator we just threw this abomination out.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Dumb On The Fourth of July
Today I thought I was going to have a relaxing day. The roommates decided to go to the beach leaving me home alone. They would come back at 5PM and then we'd grill. Perfect time for me to get some writing done on the feature and two TV shows that I am working on. However stupidity doesn't rest...ever.
At 4PM the land lady came into the house with her collection of cleaning supplies. It took her three times to bring in all the chemicals that she was using to clean the bathroom. Luckily the discussion I had with her about bleach and ammonia yielded results. However she still managed to come in with several bottles of stuff with high chemically smells including her new cleaner of choice: Pine-sol. I text the roommates and let them know what is going on. Translation: Stay at the beach because the house will not be in any condition to cook or eat in.
At 6PM she completed the bathroom. Two hours later. Mind you it's not a big bathroom. It's a small apartment bathroom. Then she moved to the living room...where I am set up with notepads and laptop...where I am writing...also I am watching a Walking Dead marathon. Fortunately she decides to clean the dining room first. She wipes off the tables and then pours a soap called Fabuloso on the floor. She swirls her mop around a few times and them moves into the kitchen.
At 7PM she begins the kitchen. It is at this time I notice the air conditioning not working. I bet it's because the kitchen door is open. I walk into the kitchen and sure enough the kitchen door is open. I close the door and get back to my writing and Walking Dead. She comes back into the house. I hear the door open but not close. I go into the kitchen and the door is wide open. Again I close the door. Again she opens it and leaves it open. I close it again. In the back of my mind I can hear my grandmother yelling "Close the door, we ain't cooling off the whole neighborhood." She leaves the door open once more. At this point I am at the edge of my wits.
I beckon her to the door and begin explaining how our air conditioning works. "Our air con is set on auto, that means that the house will try to keep itself at 75 degrees. When you leave the door open the outside hot air rushes into the house and warms the house. This causes the air con to work harder and if we do this often it will cause the air con to burn out." I said this as if talking to a child. The only response is "Ok."
She continues to busy herself in the kitchen. I glance over to see her cleaning the refrigerator. Now when I say cleaning the refrigerator you'd probably think she was pulling out all the food and wiping down the shelves. Wrong. Nope. She wiped the parts of the shelves that didn't have anything on it. In a refrigerator shared by eight people this left her with two small spots to wipe.
It is now 8PM. I can't have my 4th of July steak because the house smells of chemicals....and now she is beginning to sweep the living room.....FML.
At 4PM the land lady came into the house with her collection of cleaning supplies. It took her three times to bring in all the chemicals that she was using to clean the bathroom. Luckily the discussion I had with her about bleach and ammonia yielded results. However she still managed to come in with several bottles of stuff with high chemically smells including her new cleaner of choice: Pine-sol. I text the roommates and let them know what is going on. Translation: Stay at the beach because the house will not be in any condition to cook or eat in.
At 6PM she completed the bathroom. Two hours later. Mind you it's not a big bathroom. It's a small apartment bathroom. Then she moved to the living room...where I am set up with notepads and laptop...where I am writing...also I am watching a Walking Dead marathon. Fortunately she decides to clean the dining room first. She wipes off the tables and then pours a soap called Fabuloso on the floor. She swirls her mop around a few times and them moves into the kitchen.
At 7PM she begins the kitchen. It is at this time I notice the air conditioning not working. I bet it's because the kitchen door is open. I walk into the kitchen and sure enough the kitchen door is open. I close the door and get back to my writing and Walking Dead. She comes back into the house. I hear the door open but not close. I go into the kitchen and the door is wide open. Again I close the door. Again she opens it and leaves it open. I close it again. In the back of my mind I can hear my grandmother yelling "Close the door, we ain't cooling off the whole neighborhood." She leaves the door open once more. At this point I am at the edge of my wits.
I beckon her to the door and begin explaining how our air conditioning works. "Our air con is set on auto, that means that the house will try to keep itself at 75 degrees. When you leave the door open the outside hot air rushes into the house and warms the house. This causes the air con to work harder and if we do this often it will cause the air con to burn out." I said this as if talking to a child. The only response is "Ok."
She continues to busy herself in the kitchen. I glance over to see her cleaning the refrigerator. Now when I say cleaning the refrigerator you'd probably think she was pulling out all the food and wiping down the shelves. Wrong. Nope. She wiped the parts of the shelves that didn't have anything on it. In a refrigerator shared by eight people this left her with two small spots to wipe.
It is now 8PM. I can't have my 4th of July steak because the house smells of chemicals....and now she is beginning to sweep the living room.....FML.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
The Bag Lady of Burbank
Yes we live in North Hollywood but Burbank rolls off the tongue.
Also this blog now has a theme song. Kendrick Lamar's "B*tch, Don't Kill My Vibe." In the song Kendrick repeats over and over again to some dumb person not to kill his vibe. This is as close as you can come to talking to my land lady.
As I mentioned before the compound I live in is made up of two houses. The house I live in is run pretty intelligently. The back house where she lives is run as if an insane clown was in charge. Our cockroach problem got worst. However for some reason our problem was confined to our kitchen. The back house had a house wide problem. Perhaps if she closed the front door the bugs wouldn't get in. I bought a few insect products and traps. Not seeming to work we decided to 'bomb' the house. After we bombed the house we saw a decline in the bugs. The back house did not. As a measure to keep the bugs out of their food the land lady had everyone bag up their food.
Yes you heard that right.
They put their food in plastic shopping bags and tie them up.
And not just all your food in one bag. Everything has a separate bag. I saw a girl put a closed can of corn in a bag. I asked her why she was putting a can in a bag.
She gave me a thousand yard stare and said nothing.
Hey if I was driven to almost insanity from dealing with her an hour or two a day what could the poor souls that live with her be going through. For a minute I felt like the men at the end of The Fly (the original) when seeing the fly/man caught in the spider's web. Should I put her out of her misery?
Their kitchen has a mound of shopping bags on their counter. It looks like a small landfill....and she is proud of this. She suggests this to us as if it is a proud new discovery.
"You guys should put all your food in bags....it works for us?"
I look in their house and roaches are crawling all over their bags. Instead of fending them off you made them an amusement park.
After a few months they stopped bagging all their things. No one could tell who's food was who's.
Also this blog now has a theme song. Kendrick Lamar's "B*tch, Don't Kill My Vibe." In the song Kendrick repeats over and over again to some dumb person not to kill his vibe. This is as close as you can come to talking to my land lady.
As I mentioned before the compound I live in is made up of two houses. The house I live in is run pretty intelligently. The back house where she lives is run as if an insane clown was in charge. Our cockroach problem got worst. However for some reason our problem was confined to our kitchen. The back house had a house wide problem. Perhaps if she closed the front door the bugs wouldn't get in. I bought a few insect products and traps. Not seeming to work we decided to 'bomb' the house. After we bombed the house we saw a decline in the bugs. The back house did not. As a measure to keep the bugs out of their food the land lady had everyone bag up their food.
Yes you heard that right.
They put their food in plastic shopping bags and tie them up.
And not just all your food in one bag. Everything has a separate bag. I saw a girl put a closed can of corn in a bag. I asked her why she was putting a can in a bag.
She gave me a thousand yard stare and said nothing.
Hey if I was driven to almost insanity from dealing with her an hour or two a day what could the poor souls that live with her be going through. For a minute I felt like the men at the end of The Fly (the original) when seeing the fly/man caught in the spider's web. Should I put her out of her misery?
Their kitchen has a mound of shopping bags on their counter. It looks like a small landfill....and she is proud of this. She suggests this to us as if it is a proud new discovery.
"You guys should put all your food in bags....it works for us?"
I look in their house and roaches are crawling all over their bags. Instead of fending them off you made them an amusement park.
After a few months they stopped bagging all their things. No one could tell who's food was who's.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Ode to Murphy's Wood Oil
In continuing my breakdown of her inability to clean I recall that she began using Murphy's Wood Oil Soap on the floor. The instructions on how to use it go like this:
http://www.ehow.com/how_6159014_use-oil-soap-wood-floors.html
Instructions
http://www.ehow.com/how_6159014_use-oil-soap-wood-floors.html
Instructions
- 1Pour ¼ cup of Murphy Oil Soap into a bucket. Add 1 gallon of warm water.
- 2Stir the contents with a long-handled brush. Stir until the soap mixes well with the water and becomes sudsy.
- 3Place a clean mop into the soap mixture. Gently wring the mop out to make it damp.
- 4Apply a small amount of pressure when mopping the wood floor. Continue to dip the mop into the bucket and wring out the solution
once the mop does not appear as damp as before.
- 5Dry the floor off with a clean towel.Here is how my land lady uses the product:1) Pour on the floor2)Leave it.We first discovered that she may not be using it right when my roommate and I came home at the same time. My roommate ,who just got home from work wearing dress shoes, slide across the floor in a speed unobtainable to an unaided man. I am pretty sure I saw sparks. I, in my sneakers, suffered a similar fate. I had on sneakers, whose only purpose is to keep traction as I run. They proved to have no power over the wood soap. My feet slipped beneath me and I was up in the air...all +200lbs of me. As I hovered in the air, reaching a hang time that Michael Jordan would be jealous of, I was at peace. I had slipped the surly bonds of Earth and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings. Time and Space had no meaning. However my enemy would not let me got that quickly and gravity once again took hold. I hit the ground with a spat and continues to slide across the floor for several minutes.I asked my roommate if he had some sort of metaphysical experience as he slide. He said he heard "Space Oddity" by David BoweThe oiling of the floor continued for several months. We began to notice that the floor began to warp and some of the wood panels began to separate. We attributed to her care of the floor or lack of. We brought it to the attention of boss of bosses...they guy who runs this housing thing. He thought it was caused by a fault in the builders. Yeah he isn't too bright himself. When the floor is ruined and he has to pay for it to be replaced he will think about this conversation.One day, in a fit of rage, one of the roommates told her to stop using the wood oil on the floor.Footnote: One of my roommates is looking for a job. Our land lady told him he needs to act more Mexican. It was an odd statement because he is black and she is brazilian. She said mexicans will take any job regardless if they know what they are doing."I took this job and have never cleaned a house before in my life." She said.Yeah we know.
- 1
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Cleanliness is Close to Dumbliness
The madness continues....
The biggest issue people have with our land lady is her method of cleaning. Now to clarify we aren't a bunch of dirty people. We clean after ourselves and she comes in to do a deeper cleaning. One day out of the week she cleans the bathroom, living room and kitchen. The day she chose was Sunday morning. Imagine that someone comes into your home Sunday at 8am to clean your bathroom. Sunday is everyone's day to sleep in. Even God sleeps in on Sunday and wakes up to hot wings and football.
Her primary weapons in the war on dirt is bleach and ammonia.
For those who don't know:
The biggest issue people have with our land lady is her method of cleaning. Now to clarify we aren't a bunch of dirty people. We clean after ourselves and she comes in to do a deeper cleaning. One day out of the week she cleans the bathroom, living room and kitchen. The day she chose was Sunday morning. Imagine that someone comes into your home Sunday at 8am to clean your bathroom. Sunday is everyone's day to sleep in. Even God sleeps in on Sunday and wakes up to hot wings and football.
Her primary weapons in the war on dirt is bleach and ammonia.
For those who don't know:
Household bleach has a chemical formula of NaOCl - that is, one atom each of sodium, oxygen, and chlorine. Its chemical name, for the curious, is sodium hypochlorite. Ammonia has a chemical formula of NH3 , that is, one atom of nitrogen and three atoms of hydrogen. When these two compounds are combined, the following reaction takes place:
2(parts)NaOCl + 2NH3 --> 2NaONH3 + Cl2 .
Do you see that Cl2 on the right hand side there? This means one part chlorine gas, made up of diatomic (two atom) molecules. It also means that the chlorine gas has been liberated from the bleach, and is quite capable of causing you harm when inhaled!
An average Sunday morning involves me and the roommates waking up and having to open all the windows and/or leaving the house. How she manages to stay in that bathroom and clean is beyond me. I went out and bought Scrub Free Clean Shower. It's a product you spray on the shower that cleans it without the harsh chemicals. When she saw the spray she asked who bought it. I said I did. I told her that it is better to use as it doesn't try to kill everyone in the house.
"How does it disinfect?"
"It's chemicals." I said.
"But the chemical smell disinfects......."
She said other things but I didn't hear them. The human body has various inner safe guards to prevent damage. We sweat when we get hot to prevent overheating. I think our brains turn off when a we hear something so stupid it to continue to hear it would give you an aneurysm. My brain gave me the 'deuces ' sign and punched out like Maverick in Top Gun.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Lord Of The Flies
It hasn't all been bad times at the compound. I actually play a game with her called "Close the Door". The game goes like this: The enters our house and doesn't close the door behind her. After a few minutes I have to close the door behind her. Now I am not talking about leaving the door a little ajar. She leaves the door wide open, letting flies and other creepy crawlers the opportunity to enter our home.
Flies are the main thing. I hate flies. They buzz about and no food or drink are safe from them landing on it. The house that she lives in is full of flies. They leave the door wide open. I am pretty sure the door is wide open now. Wait here, I'll go check. Yup wide open. I went to the other house last week to use their bathroom and there was a cluster of flies buzzing about their house. She can't figure out why they have so many flies in the house. Her research into fly habits has led her to believe the reason they have so many flies in the house.....is because of the tree in the back yard.
We had (operative word is had) a nice, majestic tree in out back yard. It was some sort of berry tree. If I had to guess maybe black berries. Now when you have a fruit tree of any kind and you don't tend to it the fruit grows, dies and falls on the ground. The rotting fruit attracts flies. Our backyard was full of flies. Every once and a while she'd rake up the dead fruit but she didn't do it regular enough. She decided that a more drastic measure needed to be taken. A handyman was hired and in one day the tree went from majestic tree to piece of wood sticking out of the ground. Every branch was cut from the tree. The once shady area we had in the backyard is now gone. It's as if a guy decides he doesn't want anymore kids and cuts his dick off as a result.
However she continues to leave the door open and still can't figure out why their house has so many flies in it. Yesterday while washing dishes I look into the back yard and see her trying to pull up a bush that is by their door out of the ground by hand. No tools. No knife or hedge clippers. Just using her hands. She may have been trying to push the house for the results she was getting. After thirty minutes of pulling she decides to break off the branches. There are now four sharp pieces of wood sticking out of the ground where a nice little bush was present.
So I know a lot of people think I am making this all up so I've included photographic evidence.
The remains of the Bush.
Door still wide open.
Sad tree.
Door still wide open.
Sad tree.
Monday, June 24, 2013
911 Is A Joke
The story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent and the stupid...
After the pizza-drug deal it seems her dumb-ness lay dormant. We were relieved and thought the worst was over. Oh how we were wrong.
This summer, summer of 2013, we began to experience blackouts in the neighborhood. It seemed natural to me since the temperature reached 110 and everyone had their air conditioning on and thats a lot of drain on the power company. The first time we had one everything went out. Street lights, traffic lights...everything. (REDACTED), the land lady grabbed her cell phone and called 911.
911.
The Emergency hotline for police, fire and ambulance.
I can't even begin to fathom how that conversation went.
"911, whats your emergency?"
"The power is out."
"Um...say again."
"The power went out on the block."
"911 is only for emergencies."
"This is an emergency. Our power is out."
"Please call your power company not 911."
This conversation dragged on for a few more minutes. In that time people with real emergencies like dying, house on fire or wearing a LA Clippers jersey couldn't get the help they needed. Now if the story stopped there you'd think I just told you a funny story about how messed up my land lady is. However the story doesn't end there...it get worst.
On our property is two houses. One house for the men the other house for the women. Now a group of women had moved into the house and decided that their first act of being in Los Angeles was to go to Universal Studios. Since no one had a car they decided to take the city's fine public transportation. You may not no it but i was being sarcastic. Public Transit here runs on a 'we'll get there when we get there' attitude. However I digress, the landlady decided she wanted to go with them. To get to Universal from here you catch a bus to the train and the train takes you to Universal. So they catch a bus and arrive at the train station. At the train station one of the roommates, we'll call her Pam, had a seizure.
How did the land lady respond?
She decided to bring Pam home.
At home Pam decided to have another seizure. The land lady calls....the housing company's front office. She talks to her boss, we'll call her Marsha. (REDACTED) calls Marsha and asks her to call 911 for Pam.
Marsha asks why (REDACTED) doesn't call 911. (REDACTED) tells Marsha that whomever calls 911 is responsible for the medical bills and she doesn't have that kind of money. Go back and read that sentence, I'll wait. Read it again. Let the words sink into your soul. Eventually an ambulance was called and Pam got the help she needed.
At this point I was furious with (REDACTED) and the main office. This woman was insane. If I was home alone and needed help and she was my only hope...I would die. At this point I put myself on a aspirin regiment because if I ever had a heart attack that would be a wrap. I was mad at the front office because they now know that she is incompetent and had anything happened to Pam her family could have sued. This woman is responsible for my well being and she is as dumb as a box of rocks.
Unfortunately this was the start of the spiral into unconditional stupidity.
Coming up next "Ode to Murphy's Wood Oil"
After the pizza-drug deal it seems her dumb-ness lay dormant. We were relieved and thought the worst was over. Oh how we were wrong.
This summer, summer of 2013, we began to experience blackouts in the neighborhood. It seemed natural to me since the temperature reached 110 and everyone had their air conditioning on and thats a lot of drain on the power company. The first time we had one everything went out. Street lights, traffic lights...everything. (REDACTED), the land lady grabbed her cell phone and called 911.
911.
The Emergency hotline for police, fire and ambulance.
I can't even begin to fathom how that conversation went.
"911, whats your emergency?"
"The power is out."
"Um...say again."
"The power went out on the block."
"911 is only for emergencies."
"This is an emergency. Our power is out."
"Please call your power company not 911."
This conversation dragged on for a few more minutes. In that time people with real emergencies like dying, house on fire or wearing a LA Clippers jersey couldn't get the help they needed. Now if the story stopped there you'd think I just told you a funny story about how messed up my land lady is. However the story doesn't end there...it get worst.
On our property is two houses. One house for the men the other house for the women. Now a group of women had moved into the house and decided that their first act of being in Los Angeles was to go to Universal Studios. Since no one had a car they decided to take the city's fine public transportation. You may not no it but i was being sarcastic. Public Transit here runs on a 'we'll get there when we get there' attitude. However I digress, the landlady decided she wanted to go with them. To get to Universal from here you catch a bus to the train and the train takes you to Universal. So they catch a bus and arrive at the train station. At the train station one of the roommates, we'll call her Pam, had a seizure.
How did the land lady respond?
She decided to bring Pam home.
At home Pam decided to have another seizure. The land lady calls....the housing company's front office. She talks to her boss, we'll call her Marsha. (REDACTED) calls Marsha and asks her to call 911 for Pam.
Marsha asks why (REDACTED) doesn't call 911. (REDACTED) tells Marsha that whomever calls 911 is responsible for the medical bills and she doesn't have that kind of money. Go back and read that sentence, I'll wait. Read it again. Let the words sink into your soul. Eventually an ambulance was called and Pam got the help she needed.
At this point I was furious with (REDACTED) and the main office. This woman was insane. If I was home alone and needed help and she was my only hope...I would die. At this point I put myself on a aspirin regiment because if I ever had a heart attack that would be a wrap. I was mad at the front office because they now know that she is incompetent and had anything happened to Pam her family could have sued. This woman is responsible for my well being and she is as dumb as a box of rocks.
Unfortunately this was the start of the spiral into unconditional stupidity.
Coming up next "Ode to Murphy's Wood Oil"
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Dime Bag of Pepperoni
The story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent and the stupid...
After a few months of having a new land lady, things began to settle down. We didn't see the early warning signs of stupidity. We go to her if the cable was out. She'd call Time Warner. The cable would come back on. She'd walk into the room with the TV on and ask if the cable was working. Mind you there is nothing else hooked to the TV...not a PS3, XBOX or DVD player. However things took a turn for the worst one day.
Two roommates, we'll call them Jim and John, were hungry and decided to order a pizza together. Jim doesn't have any cash on him so John agrees to pay for it as long as Jim pays him back. The two enjoy a pizza from one of the superb pizzerias we have in the area. Honestly there is some good pizza around here...but that is neither here nor there.
The next day Jim comes home on his school lunch break to give John his money. On the front lawn Jim hands John a few dollars...all in plain view of (REDACTED), the land lady. Jim goes back to school and John comes back into the house. The land lady enters the house in a huff. She starts yelling at John that he shouldn't buying drugs from Jim.
Yes. The land lady saw Jim giving John money and assumed it was a drug deal...in broad daylight...on the front lawn.
John tells her he isn't buying drugs and that they bought a pizza together.
Land lady tell him she knows what a drug deal looks like and that it's against the rules to sell drugs in the house.
Now they are yelling at each other.
John goes to the refrigerator and pulls out the left overs in the pizza box.
"We ordered a pizza, this is a pizza."
The DEA Land lady continued with her inquisition.
"We do not let people buy mary-juana (this is the ways she said it and as close to spelling it as I can get) in this house."
Mind you that weed is legal in California and one does not need to do a shady drug deal to obtain it because there is a weed store a block from the house.
At this point John grabs a slice of his pizza, out of the box and shows it to her.
"THIS IS PIZZA! I BOUGHT PIZZA!"
"NO DRUGS!"
They are yelling at the top of their lungs. I am on my laptop, trying to work on my thesis, while this is going on.
At this point John loses his mind and begins flinging pizza slices around the room. After which he runs out of the house.
"You will clean this up!" She yells after them.
After things sort of calm down and I tell her that they bought a pizza a night before and that's what the money was for.
"Drugs are bad." was the only response I got as she walked out of the house.
Follow-up:
Jim and John no longer live here. I am starting to believe that stupidity is like zombie-ism. Contact with one stupid person makes you start to become stupid. Jim, who was going to school to be a doctor was found on Santa Monica Blvd, butt ass naked with a flash light in the middle of the day. I like to think he was looking for his mind.
John moved out of the house soon after. The burden of being the North Hollywood Pizza-Lord grew too much for him. I'd like to think that at this very moment he is in an office, with several pizzas piled high on his desk, Scarface style, waiting for Papa Johns' men to come kill him because you don't fuck with Papa Johns.
Coming Soon: 911 is a joke.
After a few months of having a new land lady, things began to settle down. We didn't see the early warning signs of stupidity. We go to her if the cable was out. She'd call Time Warner. The cable would come back on. She'd walk into the room with the TV on and ask if the cable was working. Mind you there is nothing else hooked to the TV...not a PS3, XBOX or DVD player. However things took a turn for the worst one day.
Two roommates, we'll call them Jim and John, were hungry and decided to order a pizza together. Jim doesn't have any cash on him so John agrees to pay for it as long as Jim pays him back. The two enjoy a pizza from one of the superb pizzerias we have in the area. Honestly there is some good pizza around here...but that is neither here nor there.
The next day Jim comes home on his school lunch break to give John his money. On the front lawn Jim hands John a few dollars...all in plain view of (REDACTED), the land lady. Jim goes back to school and John comes back into the house. The land lady enters the house in a huff. She starts yelling at John that he shouldn't buying drugs from Jim.
Yes. The land lady saw Jim giving John money and assumed it was a drug deal...in broad daylight...on the front lawn.
John tells her he isn't buying drugs and that they bought a pizza together.
Land lady tell him she knows what a drug deal looks like and that it's against the rules to sell drugs in the house.
Now they are yelling at each other.
John goes to the refrigerator and pulls out the left overs in the pizza box.
"We ordered a pizza, this is a pizza."
The DEA Land lady continued with her inquisition.
"We do not let people buy mary-juana (this is the ways she said it and as close to spelling it as I can get) in this house."
Mind you that weed is legal in California and one does not need to do a shady drug deal to obtain it because there is a weed store a block from the house.
At this point John grabs a slice of his pizza, out of the box and shows it to her.
"THIS IS PIZZA! I BOUGHT PIZZA!"
"NO DRUGS!"
They are yelling at the top of their lungs. I am on my laptop, trying to work on my thesis, while this is going on.
At this point John loses his mind and begins flinging pizza slices around the room. After which he runs out of the house.
"You will clean this up!" She yells after them.
After things sort of calm down and I tell her that they bought a pizza a night before and that's what the money was for.
"Drugs are bad." was the only response I got as she walked out of the house.
Follow-up:
Jim and John no longer live here. I am starting to believe that stupidity is like zombie-ism. Contact with one stupid person makes you start to become stupid. Jim, who was going to school to be a doctor was found on Santa Monica Blvd, butt ass naked with a flash light in the middle of the day. I like to think he was looking for his mind.
John moved out of the house soon after. The burden of being the North Hollywood Pizza-Lord grew too much for him. I'd like to think that at this very moment he is in an office, with several pizzas piled high on his desk, Scarface style, waiting for Papa Johns' men to come kill him because you don't fuck with Papa Johns.
Coming Soon: 911 is a joke.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Perfect Storm of Stupidity
There comes a time in every one's life when they have to deal with a stupid person. Everyday as we traverse across this globe we lessen the odds of meeting more stupid people than we know what to do with. Face it, there are some dumb people and then there are some DUMB people. The point of this blog is for me to work through some of the dumb activities of my land lady. I believe that she is the perfect storm of dumb and stupidity all wrapped up in one. This blog however is not an attempt to embarrass her in any way. It's just she goes through all that hard work to being dumb that it needs to be shared and I need to get this out of my system before I lose my mind and kill a bunch of people.
So as they usually say, the only place to start is at the beginning...
My plunge into the depths of stupid hell began a few months ago when our house manager quit to live with her girl friend. I live in an artist compound in Los Angeles. It's cheap but you have to share a room with three other people. This doesn't bother me as I was in the Navy and once shared a room with fifty people. This to me was an upgrade. A tenant from another property was brought into be our Manager/Land Lord/Lady...whatever. A house meeting was called where we'd meet her for the first time. How would this woman greet her new tenants, people whose fate she held in the palm of her hand?...she went into a tirade. She started yelling about dishes and cleanliness and food being put away. Mind you she just got here and this was the first time she looked around. Now from my description you'd imagine there were dirty dishes or food out. Nope...not a one. So she is yelling about a problem we don't have. However the best piece of dialogue i have yet to share with you:
"You have to wash your dishes because if you don't a rat will come in the house and piss on the dishes and then you'll all die."
We were floored. I almost lost it. I couldn't hold back the tears from laughing too hard. My over-active imagination saw this big ass gang banger rat walk into the house, throw up a gang sign and then proceed to piss all over our sink.
I am no animal expert but I am sure that if I left a dish in the sink the turn of events that follow would not be 1) A rat sees the plate 2) Comes into the house like a little Santa Mickey 3) Piss on the plate 4) We all die...either from the rat's murder-piss or because of now the punishment of not being clean is death.
I wish I could tell you this is a made up story but it's as true as true can be. I wish that this was also the last of the dumb things I'd encounter but I wouldn't be writing a blog about it, would I? Things got worst. A lot worst.
Pray for Me.
So as they usually say, the only place to start is at the beginning...
My plunge into the depths of stupid hell began a few months ago when our house manager quit to live with her girl friend. I live in an artist compound in Los Angeles. It's cheap but you have to share a room with three other people. This doesn't bother me as I was in the Navy and once shared a room with fifty people. This to me was an upgrade. A tenant from another property was brought into be our Manager/Land Lord/Lady...whatever. A house meeting was called where we'd meet her for the first time. How would this woman greet her new tenants, people whose fate she held in the palm of her hand?...she went into a tirade. She started yelling about dishes and cleanliness and food being put away. Mind you she just got here and this was the first time she looked around. Now from my description you'd imagine there were dirty dishes or food out. Nope...not a one. So she is yelling about a problem we don't have. However the best piece of dialogue i have yet to share with you:
"You have to wash your dishes because if you don't a rat will come in the house and piss on the dishes and then you'll all die."
We were floored. I almost lost it. I couldn't hold back the tears from laughing too hard. My over-active imagination saw this big ass gang banger rat walk into the house, throw up a gang sign and then proceed to piss all over our sink.
I am no animal expert but I am sure that if I left a dish in the sink the turn of events that follow would not be 1) A rat sees the plate 2) Comes into the house like a little Santa Mickey 3) Piss on the plate 4) We all die...either from the rat's murder-piss or because of now the punishment of not being clean is death.
I wish I could tell you this is a made up story but it's as true as true can be. I wish that this was also the last of the dumb things I'd encounter but I wouldn't be writing a blog about it, would I? Things got worst. A lot worst.
Pray for Me.
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