Advice for Ass: Take a chill pill, an anger management course and consider a self-imposed incarceration at your local nuthouse...
RATINGS (1-10, 1 being not a lot and 10 being off the charts)
Spoiled (1)
Crazy (15)
"Blonde" (1)
Slutty (0)
Irresponsible (4)
Drug Addled (?)
Anal (5)
Violent * Special category just for Ass (7)
Even though the house was shabbier, I was excited to be moving in with my friend Noel, and living so close to the beach. Noel shared the house with one guy, we'll call him Ass. Her last roommate who had lived with her and Ass had left over a dispute with him. She had left the front door open and Ass's dog had escaped and he had yelled and berated for it, and she had decided to move immediately. I heard the story, but the dispute didn't sound that bad and I assumed Jeanette, the old roomie must have been pretty high strung.
The first week at the new house was good. Noel and I had fun getting me moved in, and Ass seemed nice enough, he seemed like a chill surfer guy, cool enough, and I was happy. After Faith, Cam and Flora and the hippies I should have known that peace can come before the storm of roommate psychosis, but I just didn't see it coming.
I'd been moved in for a little over a week, and had the house to my self one night. I was sitting in the living room and I glanced at Ass' fish tank, which was huge and covered in Algae. The algae was so bad that I couldn't see the fish inside, even though I knew they were in there, and it occurred to me that if I couldn't see in, they couldn't see out either. So I cleaned the fish tank. It took me 2 hours, and it still wasn't perfect, but I could see the fish, and the fish could see me.
The next day I woke up to violent knocking at my door, and when I answered it Ass was on the other side and starting yelling at me about the fishtank, telling me I shouldn't touch his stuff. I told him I was sorry, I was just trying to be helpful by cleaning the tank. That did nothing to calm him down. In fact, he was so riled up that he just kept saying "don't touch my property". At this point I'm like, calm down cowboy, I won't touch your stuff, but he had a totally different interpretation than I did for what that meant.
The next day, Noel and I came home to a note from Ass stating again that we weren't allowed to touch his property. Sounds just a little anal so far right. BUT WAIT, HERE COMES CRAZY! The note explained that his property included the TV in the living room so he had taken it out of there, the paint on the walls, so he had removed our pictures from it, the couches and chairs, which he had turned UPSIDE DOWN so we could not sit on them, and marked their spots in case we tried to turn them over while he as gone, and THE FLOOR, because he'd purchased the carpet, so we shouldn't walk across it. Since one door to my bedroom opened up on the living room, he said he would make an exception, and I could walk across the living room when I was entering or exiting the house. Kind of him I know.
The note was so crazy that all we could do at first was laugh, but then we walked into the living room and found the TV gone, our pictures off the wall, and all available seating turned upside down and we knew we were dealing with a real nutter.
We avoided him from that point on, as best we could. Unfortunately, we received a new crazy note everyday, and an occasional visit by Ass who would yell at us from outside our bedroom doors. Then one day Noel mentioned to me that the gas on the stove had been on and asked if I could make sure to turn it all the way off. I told her that was ironic because I was about to ask her the same thing. This is when we simultaneously worried that Ass had turned it on and decided to investigate.
Ass used to leave for work around 5:30am, and so we set our alarms for 5:40am and came into the kitchen to check the stove. And lo and behold, the guy was not just crazy and belligerent, but homicidal too. Every morning we found the gas on and turned it off. We compiled all of the notes Ass had written to us and went down to the police station to see what we could do about being safe in our home. The police were no help, telling us that they didn't have the authority to do anything until we were actually injured. We talked to the landlord about the problem, but he was basically useless. We stopped going home whenever possible, only stayed there if we were together, and started looking for a new place to live.
I was only home once by myself the night before Thanksgiving because I had mistakenly assumed that Ass was out of town. I learned I was wrong when I woke up in the morning and the gas was on. That day I was driving to San Francisco and as as I neared the city I noticed that my ride was getting bumpier and attributed it to the road. It wasn't until I reached my destination and gotten out of the car that I realized that my tire was stripped. When I got back to Santa Cruz, right as I pulled into my driveway I found the tire culprit, there was a sharp object on our porch, where Ass had obviously tossed it when he was done puncturing my tire.
Luckily I'd come home with a guy in tow or I wouldn't have stayed there at all. Even luckier, Ass put in his notice. Of course he didn't leave quietly or without destruction. He pulled up the skate ramp&deck in the yard and pulled out most of the plants. But that was worth it to see the back of that Ass. And we did, he took off never to be heard from again, probably terrorizing and attempting the murder of someone else, somewhere else. Well good riddance to him!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Faith: Is That A Post-It On My Door or Are You Just Happy to See Me
Advice for Faith: When someone says your anal, it's NOT a compliment...
RATINGS (1-10, 1 being not a lot and 10 being off the charts)
Spoiled (8)
Crazy (7)
"Blonde" (2)
Slutty (0)
Irresponsible (0)
Drug Addled (0
Anal (12)
I found a room for rent at this house, and I was very excited. It sounded amazing! The house was a townhouse, but huge, with 4 bedrooms, slanted ceilings, a fireplace and a view of this huge, beautiful meadow. My room was huge with french doors and my own patio. And it was cheap, cheaper than cheap by SC standards.
I was moving in with Faith, her boyfriend and two other students. On the day I moved in, before I'd put my first box down, Faith comes up to me and demands my rent check. I gave it to her once I'd put the box down. As if I wasn't going to pay for my rent, and just live there for the next month. Then, the next morning I found 2 post-its on my door. The first made mention that I owed a quarter (yeah $0.25) on rent for the cost of posting the check to the landlord via USPS. Ohh-k whatever, I gave her the $... The second said that someone had left the light on in the upstairs hallway and could they abstain from doing that in the future, blah blah blah.
After the first incidents, it was clear that Faith's plan was to turn the house into a gallery for post-it art - hers. We all got a new note, every single day. My favs were the rent is due reminders, put on our door randomly throughout the month, sometimes only 2 weeks into the month. I wasn't sure what was up with these, then I finally got it. Everytime Faith would argue with her super stupid (no really, low IQ) boyfriend, she would get over it by bestowing her roomies with post-its about the rent. Can you say crazy?
Then there was the kitchen. The rule (Faith's rule) was that we do the dishes RIGHT AWAY, like before we ate. From someone who knows this, it is hard to eat when the plate you are eating off is supposed to be cleaned before you use it.
And there was what I called, Old MacDonald's Farm in the freezer. Faith and Pat used to buy value packs of meat, portion them out for meals, put those portions in ziplocs and freeze them. That's cool enough, recommended by cheesy morning shows everywhere. BUT, the freezer was FULL. Every time I'd go to take something out of there, an avalanche of animal parts would fly at my head. I learned a defensive elbow move to curb this at the time.
I wasn't exactly happy with the farm in the freezer, but it didn't piss me off until the day I went to look for the only thing I had in the freezer, a pint of unopened Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia frozen yogurt, and couldn't find it, even after a search that found 3 pigs, 2 cows and 6 chicken, severed and placed into individual plastic bags. I asked Faith if she'd seen my yogurt and she nonchalantly said to me, "Oh, I threw it out, there was too much stuff in the freezer". $#^%)&@*^$#@!
By the time I was five months in, I was over it. Faith's bf was dumb as dirt, but the other roommates were cool enough, but it just wasn't worth it, not for the big room or the cheap rent. Not if I had to wake up everyday to a 2 1/2 by 2 1/2 fluorescent card bitching and moaning about nothing important, and have to pretend to take it seriously. No way, no how.
"Lucky" (see next post) for me, one of my best friends had a place with a roommate and invited me to move in, so I put in my notice, packed up my stuff and hightailed it out the door. Did I get most of my deposit back? NO. Did I expect to with that crazy chick who'd appointed herself ? NO. So I moved out and on, post-it free and looking forward to my new place with my friend Noel, only a block from the Beach, perfect for a California girl like me...
RATINGS (1-10, 1 being not a lot and 10 being off the charts)
Spoiled (8)
Crazy (7)
"Blonde" (2)
Slutty (0)
Irresponsible (0)
Drug Addled (0
Anal (12)
I found a room for rent at this house, and I was very excited. It sounded amazing! The house was a townhouse, but huge, with 4 bedrooms, slanted ceilings, a fireplace and a view of this huge, beautiful meadow. My room was huge with french doors and my own patio. And it was cheap, cheaper than cheap by SC standards.
I was moving in with Faith, her boyfriend and two other students. On the day I moved in, before I'd put my first box down, Faith comes up to me and demands my rent check. I gave it to her once I'd put the box down. As if I wasn't going to pay for my rent, and just live there for the next month. Then, the next morning I found 2 post-its on my door. The first made mention that I owed a quarter (yeah $0.25) on rent for the cost of posting the check to the landlord via USPS. Ohh-k whatever, I gave her the $... The second said that someone had left the light on in the upstairs hallway and could they abstain from doing that in the future, blah blah blah.
After the first incidents, it was clear that Faith's plan was to turn the house into a gallery for post-it art - hers. We all got a new note, every single day. My favs were the rent is due reminders, put on our door randomly throughout the month, sometimes only 2 weeks into the month. I wasn't sure what was up with these, then I finally got it. Everytime Faith would argue with her super stupid (no really, low IQ) boyfriend, she would get over it by bestowing her roomies with post-its about the rent. Can you say crazy?
Then there was the kitchen. The rule (Faith's rule) was that we do the dishes RIGHT AWAY, like before we ate. From someone who knows this, it is hard to eat when the plate you are eating off is supposed to be cleaned before you use it.
And there was what I called, Old MacDonald's Farm in the freezer. Faith and Pat used to buy value packs of meat, portion them out for meals, put those portions in ziplocs and freeze them. That's cool enough, recommended by cheesy morning shows everywhere. BUT, the freezer was FULL. Every time I'd go to take something out of there, an avalanche of animal parts would fly at my head. I learned a defensive elbow move to curb this at the time.
I wasn't exactly happy with the farm in the freezer, but it didn't piss me off until the day I went to look for the only thing I had in the freezer, a pint of unopened Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia frozen yogurt, and couldn't find it, even after a search that found 3 pigs, 2 cows and 6 chicken, severed and placed into individual plastic bags. I asked Faith if she'd seen my yogurt and she nonchalantly said to me, "Oh, I threw it out, there was too much stuff in the freezer". $#^%)&@*^$#@!
By the time I was five months in, I was over it. Faith's bf was dumb as dirt, but the other roommates were cool enough, but it just wasn't worth it, not for the big room or the cheap rent. Not if I had to wake up everyday to a 2 1/2 by 2 1/2 fluorescent card bitching and moaning about nothing important, and have to pretend to take it seriously. No way, no how.
"Lucky" (see next post) for me, one of my best friends had a place with a roommate and invited me to move in, so I put in my notice, packed up my stuff and hightailed it out the door. Did I get most of my deposit back? NO. Did I expect to with that crazy chick who'd appointed herself ? NO. So I moved out and on, post-it free and looking forward to my new place with my friend Noel, only a block from the Beach, perfect for a California girl like me...
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