So my landlord comes to my door today and just stares at me when I answer the door. Then he says to me with his gay 90 year-old Italian accent “So don’t you have a calendar?” I am like “uhh yeah” as I stare back at him. He goes “well maybe you should get a pen and write things on it sometimes.” Ok, at this point I wanted to kick him because I knew what he was getting at. The rent was due on June 1, but I had written him checks out for three months – April, May, and June. I had the proof. Then he says “that’s a mortgage payment I have to make tomorrow.” Do I care? Actually, yes. I wish I was the one making a mortgage payment on a house so I wouldn’t have to look at his crusty face and give him my money. It is not my problem he is senile … I can’t wait for a few days from now when I give him my rent for July with a nice little letter that says goodbye motherfucker, I’m moving. He also bitched at me for having a window fan, AGAIN and he bitched at me for his high electric bill which is all my fault because I am not a vampire and I need light sometimes. No, maybe it’s due to the fact that the faggot upstairs never leaves or sleeps and therefore uses WAY more electricity than me. And also that he had his air-conditioner running when it was 50 degrees out while I was running the heat. I cannot help it that this place is not functional when it comes to temperature. He needs to realize this. Ughhh.
Work sucks, I want this week to be over. Thursday is pierogie and $1 beer night, Friday is hot date night with movies and tostitoes with salso con queso, and Saturday is something or other at the arts festival and a concert of someone I forget and a wine party afterwards. Fun stuff. Ok, Friends is on … I must go watch. My real point of this was to rant about the gay landlord and now I’m done. Feel much better.