Showing posts with label sons of bitches. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sons of bitches. Show all posts

Friday, January 11, 2008

landlord complaint, round two

Dear Incompetent, No-Good, Dirty-Rotten, Money-Hungry Landlord:


As I wrote to you about a month and a half ago, the ceiling in my bathroom is still falling in, and at more and more rapid rates. Shockingly, the ceiling hasn't repaired itself as expected. Yesterday, I was forced to be a Nasty B to the poor lady at the maintenance answering service. Please give her my sincerest apologies. I was informed that ceilings falling in are not considered "emergency maintenance," and that since it isn't water damage it will have to wait. No it's not water damage ... it's just soggy sheet rock that drips down my backside every time I use the toilet. Must be something else.


Again, if I'm found dead and naked in my shower under a pile of musty ceiling, my survivors will hunt you down and beat your ass. And take all of your money at gunpoint.


Sincerely,


Dissatisfied Tenant in Apt. 3

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

i'd rather rip out my own toenails

Never, under any circumstances, should one attempt to go to Walmart the day after Christmas. Not even if your brother got you that iPod adapter for your car that you've been wanting but were too cheap to buy for yourself, and you tried to use it and it wouldn't work, and you thought you couldn't live without it for another day. You can live without it. It is better than standing in line for ages to receive a gift card, being told that you can't exchange in that line but that you can purchase your iPod adapter with your card in another line, standing in that line long enough for your shoes to go out of style, getting to the front of the line and finding out that your gift card has been "frozen," being asked to call the 800 number from your cell phone while still in line, not getting through to the friendly people at the 800 number, almost losing your religion, saying "shit" more than once and in more than one unpleasant context, having your mother buy the new iPod thingy because it's just embarrassing to be That Girl holding up the line, and then leaving the store still saying "shit" in front of your horrified mother numerous times and in numerous ways regarding the employees, the crowds, and the idiotic corporate monster/genius that is Walmart. As if I needeed another reason to hate it.