NakedOnMyChain
Posts: 2431
Joined: 11/29/2004
From: Indiana
Status: offline
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This post needed a "Rocky and Bullwinkle" style double title. I have no idea why.
So as some of you know, I'm preparing to move in a couple of weeks. I dropped off the intent of non-renewal letter (otherwise known as the "go get fucked" letter) at my landlord's office across the street along with the last rent check today. Sweet freedom. Of course on a Friday at 1:00 pm no one is there. No one is ever there on Fridays... or Mondays, or Tuesdays and Wednesdays after noon, or Thursday's before noon or randomly at any other time. My landlord's office lady is a lazy terd... no pun intended on the later topic. (Harsh, but true. I unfortunately know her well, as she lives next to me.)
And you know what? It would figure, on the day that I tell them to screw themselves, I'm moving out, the upstairs neighbor's toilet decides to leak profusely into my bathroom. We're talking a huge, brown, dripping circle three feet in diameter on my bathroom ceiling. It looks like something out of "Dark Water". AND IT'S POOP WATER! EWWWWW! There is shit on my ceiling. Literally. So I do the reasonable thing and call the office letting them know what's happening. I had to leave a message since no one is ever there. Ever. (I could leave a message saying, "Hello. Your apartments burned down," and I would get a call three weeks later if I was lucky.) Then I do the other reasonable thing and call the emergency number they have so kindly provided... and it's out of service. What kind of a scheister landlord changes his emergency contact number and doesn't let his tenants know? My landlord, that's who. I bang on the upstairs neighbor's door. No one's home. I go to the office lady's house. No one's home. I go to the stoner kid's apartment next door and they can't find a contact number through the slightly purple haze of really bad schwag and the unruly and unwashed mop on top of their heads that they call hair.
Finally, some nice guy that doesn't live here and was sitting in the parking lot (I think he's a drug dealer... but he's a nice guy) gave me the office lady's cell number. I call and promises of, "I'll be there in fifteen minutes," are made. Forty-five minutes later some guy I've never seen before comes barging in my house, looks at the leak, and starts giving me shit. "How long has it been this way?" he queries in a shitty tone of voice that implied I had conspired with the sewage and held satanic rituals to make it ooze through my ceiling. "Since about three hours ago." "Why didn't you call us earlier?" he demands, but he might as well have said, "You shit-summoning hussy! Why have you done this?". "Oh, because I like the smell, and I really think it adds something to the feng shui. After all, what completes a bathroom better than shit water?," I reply. Seriously. I'd lost my patience at that point in time.
So the maitenance man moseys upstairs, fiddles around for five minutes, most likely tries to exorcise the Exrementals that I have secretly conjured, comes back down and tells me, "That should take care of it." But what he was really saying was, "Be gone, vile poop flinging wench!" And before I can ask him what in the name of Jebus he's going to do about the huge brown poop stain on my ceiling, he hops in his truck and roars off. But... but... but... huh? The ceiling is actually warped. I poked it with the broom (yeah, probably not wise. Surprise!) and it's mushy. It has dried up a bit since he left, but what the hell am I supposed to do? I'd poke a hole in the ceiling with a screwdriver and let it drain, but I'd get charged for the hole and probably cover myself in excrement in the process. I tried calling the office lady's cell phone again, but she shut it off when she saw it was me calling. No joke. This is the modus operandi for this place. "We care about your call. Now shove it up your ass because I'm busy gettin' my smoke on."
I suppose it's really not a huge deal. I can live with it. So help me god, if I'm in the shower though, and someone else's feces (hell, even my own wouldn't be pleasant) makes my ceiling collapse in on me I'm going on a head-beating rampage with double-ended dildo. One of the heavy ones. Preferably with veins sticking out of it. Purple jelly would be nice.
So that was my rant. What would you all have done? I really have had it up to here (here being the 48" you have to be to ride this ride) with this landlord. This is just one actually fairly minor thing in a very long list of bullshit we've had to put up with.
Improbably,
Boris and Natasha... I mean Michelle
Edited to add: It helps when you spell "Ceiling" correctly in the title of the post. Durrrr... my name's Michelle, and I sniff glue... and apparently sewage.
< Message edited by NakedOnMyChain -- 6/30/2006 2:12:52 PM >
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"Oh, it's torture, but I'm almost there."
~The Cure
"I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave."
~The Labyrinth
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Leaky Ceiling or Bitch, Bitch, Bitch - 
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E gads! What an awful, horrible mess. Don't touch or poke anything! 
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