Blog Title: Snark Scribe

Good News and Bad News

I'm currently in a new apartment. Wooo!

The other week I saw an ad looking for a roommate, and I pounced. The timing was perfect because my internet got cut off, and the city sent a notice threatening to shut off the water. There were two rat incidents this month as well.

I moved the weekend before Thanksgiving, and waited until I was done moving to notify the landlord because I was afraid those deadbeats would stop paying even more utility bills.

I called the landlady, expecting to hear a long sob story from her. Perhaps she was so surprised by the departure she didn't have anything to say, but she calmly made an appointment to meet with me last Tuesday to get my keys and return my deposit.

I suppose I should have expected it, but the bitch did not show up.

I sat in the empty house waiting for her. 15 minutes after our scheduled appointment time I called her.

"Mrs. ____, are you stuck in traffic?"

"I can't come today. I'm out of town."

"What? What do you mean you're out of town? You picked this day and time for us to meet."

"I'm not coming. I'm out of town."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was a sudden thing."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I don't have your phone number."

Liar! How in the hell did you call me early this month to hassle me for more money?

She then suggested we make another appointment during Thanksgiving weekend. No lady! I'm leaving town. I'm not coming back just so you can stand me up again.

I was so mad. Knowing how shady these people are, I had prepared a document for her to sign, stating, "As of this date, I've inspected the house, and Snark has returned the keys and is no longer responsible for anything that happens to the house, has paid all her bills, etc. etc."

Now she has my deposit and can accuse me of vandalizing the place or stealing the ugly crap she has stored in the garage and living room.

I absolutely did not want to retain possession of the keys during the time the house is empty, especially during the holidays, with a big "FOR SALE" sign out front. I went to the landlady's real estate agent's office, gave her secretary the keys, and got a receipt for them.

That wasn't ideal, but I hope it was the best I could do at that time.

The landlady "promised" she'll mail me my deposit check.

If it doesn't come very very soon I'll make it clear to her that crossing me is not worth $200.

Gobble Gobble

I have been very quiet because I've been busy moving, and dealing with a broken laptop and internet issues. (I'm on a borrowed computer and connection).

Yep, I found a new place to live. I'll spill on the details regarding my Super Bitch Landlady in the future, when the holiday crazy-time is over.

Have a happy turkey day people.

Ass Stones

Can someone tell me whether this is a male thing or the men in my lab are unusually comfortable revealing intimate details about their bowel movements?

At lunch the other day Guy #1 told us about his episode of constipation. We found out how long it lasted, how it felt, what positions were uncomfortable to him, what remedies he tried, what medication worked and what the final release looked like.

Guy #2 exclaimed, "Wow, that sounds painful! It's like ass stones!"

Guy #3 said, "That's Type I on the Bristol Stool Chart! Hard like nuts!"

Guy #1 said, "They were really shooting out."

Guy #2 laughed, "Haha like a gun!" then started making shooting and flicking motions with his fingers, accompanied by "Bew! Bew!" missile noises.

One day they grow up, right?

Take Your Child (and Drama) to Work Day

Note: The nonprofit I was working for lost its funding and I lost my job, but I still have some tales to disgorge so you'll continue to see work stories. (I also do unpaid research in a lab for school, so some "work" stories are from there).

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The building had a "take your child to work day." I was put in charge of making goodie bags with candy and toys, and running the science activities. One of the admin staff was responsible for e-mailing all the parents in the building to let them know about the scheduled fun.

I later found out that Petty Woman selectively e-mailed people she got along with, or whose children were friends with her grandkids. When confronted by other staff she said "it would be too crowded" with too many kids, and arbitrarily capped the number of children allowed to 10. Not surprisingly, her 3 grandkids made the cut.

Since everyone thought that those who organized the activities (not Petty Woman) should be able to say how much was "too much," those who weren't invited brought their children anyway. Besides, if crowding really was an issue, it should have been "first come, first served," not "if I like you."

The kids that came had a great time doing science experiments, and I'm just appalled that someone would try to deprive them because she wasn't buddies with their parents.

By the way, 3 days after the event, Petty Woman told us her granddaughter lost the goodie bag. Instead of telling her, "Too bad; be more responsible with your presents," she guilted us into making a special treat bag for the kid.

Edible Surprises

My friend's mom works as a nurse. She was prepping a very obese woman for surgery and found a forgotten sandwich on her body.

I'm not sure how to say this diplomatically, but the sandwich was sandwiched between some rolls of flab on her stomach, and was decomposing.

I really hope she was lying to me.

Scapel License

Overheard:

Idiot 1: "It's so not fair that it's so hard to get into med school!"

Idiot 2: "I know! There are probably lots of people that really want to go but can't get in because they have bad grades."

Idiot 1: "Yeah, like there are people I've met that maybe aren't that smart, but they're really caring and I think they would still make good doctors."

Idiot 2: "It's just as important to have a really nice personality. I wish those people got a chance, too."


No thank you. If you failed biology I don't want you operating on me.

Batty Nonsense

I and two other friends dressed as fancy bats for a Halloween ball. We wore black ballgowns and made caped wings and hats with bat ears.

There was a guy at the party who looked 15, but was probably much much older. He was wearing a black cape and a top hat with some non-costume clothing, so I assume he was trying to be a half-assed vampire. (There is a possibility he was simply a magician, but based on his behavior I don't think that was the case).

He spotted us sitting at a table eating sweets and came over to talk to us. I'm not sure if he had a speech impediment, or was trying to fake a foreign accent, but he made intense eye contact and muttered something about "creatures of the night." Instead of projecting an aura of suave mystery, he simply appeared to us as a weirdo mumbler because we could not comprehend any of his pick-up lines.

I think the poor fellow's thought process went something like this:

"OMG! Bats! Bat ladies! And I'm a vampire! This is my chance! I am going to be all cool and mysterious and be like, 'Hey chickies I'm your master!' "

"Okay okay, I'm standing next to them now. Stay cool man! Show an interest in their stuff. Chicks like that."

"Crap! They looked at me weird when I picked up their personal belongings from the table. Okay, note to self: Don't need to touch things to ask about them."

"Hmm, all right, that girl seems mad. I'm going to go around to the other side of the table and bother her friend. I'll try to keep my hands to myself this time."

"Why can't these girls understand what I'm saying? They keep giving me answers that have nothing to do with my questions! Don't they know how to decipher a fake Romanian accent?"

"Wait, who's that tall dude who's giving me dirty looks? Oh crap! Oh major crap! He's a boyfriend, I know it. Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"

I felt sorry for him, so I pretended he was just asking for candy, and gave him some Smarties.

I Need to Move

I am officially fed up. Those of you who have been following my blog know about the litany of horrors I've been subjected to at my crappy apartment. My horrible landlord bullied me and my roommates because we were students that were too poor to hire a lawyer and too busy with school to fight a lawsuit.

My landlord lowered the rent in September (for the month of October) because I had no hot water for 12 days and they were afraid I was going to move.

Today Mrs. Landlord called me and says I didn't send her enough rent money for November. "Oh no, you misunderstood. The discount was just for October only. The regular rent applies from now on."

I kept living here because of the discount. She certainly gave me the impression that the discount was permanent because they were selling the house and couldn't get anyone else to rent.

Her husband happened to be at the house when she originally offered me the discount by phone in September. I immediately typed up a revised rental agreement and had her husband sign it because I didn't trust these people. I was right.

The landlady tried to weasel out of our agreement by saying, "I don't know anything about my husband signing any papers."

I gave him a copy to take home. It's not my fault he lost it. I can send you another copy.

"Well, the house is in my name. I take care of everything for the house. He can't make deals with you."

Then why is he willing to sign agreements?

"No, no, the discount is just for October. You need to send me more money now."

That's not fair. By signing, your husband told me I would pay the discounted rate perpetually. If you disagreed, you should have notified me right away, until waiting for me to pay for another month.

Her justification for charging me extra was "Oh woe is me. I have $800 in bills a month and your rent won't cover it."

Your money management problems are not my problem.

She continued to whine, "You know, your water bill was $400."

Um, that's only because you didn't pay for months, until the utility company shut off my water.

"I pay $85 a month so you can have internet."

That's a flat out lie. For $85 a month I should have data packets being delivered to me by cherubs carrying silver platters.

I read her the riot act. I told her the lack of communication between her and her husband was not my problem and I was fully paid for the month. I am not sending her any more rent money.

I'm sure these bastards will "forget" to pay the utilities this month again in retaliation. I'm moving. I would rather live in a cheap motel than deal with people who barge in unannounced. (Earlier this month they sent a repairman over with his own key. He unlocked the door and walked into my apartment without knocking while I was home). I'm going to store my belongings at my parents' house and live with the bare necessities.

Too bad I couldn't have decided this before I paid for November. December will find me in a new address.

Panic in the Kitchen

I have a classmate who is a man of intimidating size, but is a complete sissy.

He was cutting meat in his kitchen when he saw a large cockroach. His reaction was to run screaming out of his home while still clutching the utensil he had in his hand.

I think his neighbors were a bit nervous about seeing a 300 pound man shrieking and waving a knife.

Six Things Meme

I am not fond of memes. They remind me of chain letters. However, I have been tagged by Rae at The Notice, and she is a very nice, persuasive person and I can't hurt her feelings.

Here are the Rules:

1. Link to the person who tagged you
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.


1. My left pinky finger is the same length as my right index toe.

2. At this moment I have 3 cases of bottled water in my bedroom because I drink water like a camel.

3. I am going to make chocolate chip cookies with orange sprinkles tomorrow night because I can't wait until Halloween.

4. I wash face towels after every use, bath towels after every other use, and hand towels weekly.

5. Everyone thinks my white laptop is a Mac, but it's a PC.

6. There is a plate of doughnuts on my nightstand, but they are not really edible.

Rules were meant to be broken. I don't want to deny anyone the pleasure of doing this meme if they choose to, so I'm not going to choose 6 and exclude all the others. =)

Blue Man Group Shenanigans

Earlier in the year I was invited to see the Blue Man Group's How to Be a Megastar show. (If you haven't seen the show I highly recommend it. I cannot accurately describe its fantasticness in mere words).

My friend Karen knew one of the tech guys for the show, and he offered to get us complimentary tickets. My thoughts were, "Really? But the show's sold out, right? Whhhhheeee! Wheeeeeee! Squeeeee!"

I would have been happy with any seat, even seats in the nosebleed section, so when we picked up tickets at Will Call that were printed "Floor 3" I had absolutely no problem with this.

However, once inside the arena, the ushers directed us to really prime seats in the front. "Floor 3" didn't mean seats on the third level. It meant seats on the floor, next to the stage, in section 3! My reaction was "Wheeee! I wouldn't have been able to afford an $86 ticket. Wheeee! Wait, we won't get food thrown on us right? Wooooooo!"

But here's the really really fun part: We had backstage passes! I've never had one of those, so I wasn't sure how they worked. I assumed a large group of the audience would be herded into a back room to watch the performers be interviewed by the press, or something.

However, we actually got to meet, take pictures with, and get autographs from the Blue Man Group and their back-up band and vocalists. Everyone was very friendly for people who were probably exhausted and dying to take a shower.

Wheeeeee!

The Blue Man Group remained in character throughout the meet and greet. They were completely silent and did not sign names. Instead, they smudged blue greasepaint onto papers as their "autographs." (One Blue Man kissed my paper and gave me lovely blue lip prints). They also blessed a bald fan by putting a blue palmprint on his head.

The backstage activities lasted about 20 minutes, and then the performers and audience left. However, since my friend Karen knew the tech guy, he took us to the tourbus area.

I wonder if anyone who saw us heading towards the back thought, "Those are some weird, non-skanky-looking groupies there." (We heard rumors that the show was sometimes messy, so I wore comfy jeans, beat-up tennis shoes, a turtleneck and a windbreaker).

Mr. Tech took us to the bus he shared with 8 other tech guys. "Welcome to the coffin box."

It was a very nice RV with marble counters, leather couches and DVD screens in all the bunk beds, but it was still very cramped for 6 months on the road. He told us that since it was a male tech bus, they actually had a subscription to the Playboy channel. You could find out who was hiding in his bunk by turning off the main TV, which was connected to the smaller bunk screens. The way to get a guy out of his bunk was to cut off the Playboy access.

There was a very small toilet in the RV. The tech guy warned us, "You can go number 1 in there, but we're not allowed to go number 2."

What?

"Yeah, the toilet isn't designed for that. If we have to go, we have to hold it until the next stop."

Ew.

Still, it was a fabulous evening, and definitely a great experience!

Extreme Recycling

Since the economy started going into the tank, people have been swapping Great Depression stories in the lab.

One lady's great-aunt survived the Depression through intense frugality, which she still practices today. She refuses to throw away anything that could be of use again, including greeting cards.

When my labmate graduated high school her great-aunt sent her a card that said "Congratulations on graduating from nursing school!"

The elderly woman carefully crossed out "nursing" and wrote "high" underneath it.

She also blotted out the name of the previous recipient of the card, and wrote my friend's name over it.

Creepo

I'm starting to think my boyfriend's new roommate is a serial killer, or at least someone with severe social phobia.

Silent Boy never speaks to us. When we enter the apartment we can hear him close his bedroom door to avoid us. He has his own bathroom, and keeps food in his room so he doesn't need to leave. Sometimes he's so quiet we don't know he's home. Often, my boyfriend doesn't see him for days. They communicate through notes and checks taped to the doors: "This month's electricity bill is $34.54."

We know he's avoiding us because if Silent Boy comes home while we are already present, he rushes past us and goes into his room without saying hello.

Should I be afraid?

Some People Never Learn

Remember the roommate who dumped her boyfriend because he was a philandering, alcoholic, compulsive gambler who threatened her?

They have rekindled their relationship.

I had trouble believing this until she started posting lovey-dovey pictures on Facebook again.

Ugh. Good luck dear.

Daddy I Want a Solid Gold Pony

My friend's sorority sister got married over a year ago. She planned her wedding, picked out a lavish gown and high-society caterer, then asked her father for $70,000.

He looked at her budget and said, "If you can cut the wedding costs down to $20,000 I will give you $50,000 cash for a down payment for a house."

Instead of considering the offer, or even negotiating for a $35,000 wedding and $35,000 cash, she said, "No Daddy. I want the whole $70,000 for the wedding."

He gave her the money and she had her party.

A year later, older and wiser, she now says, "I should have taken the house money."

You think?

Neighbors from Hell

My co-worker was very pleased the other day. She did a happy dance when her neighbors moved out.

She's African American, and lived next door to virulently racist white supremacists.

They lived in a house that was so run-down, part of the building was covered with plastic tarp to prevent rainwater from coming in. Because there was no air conditioning, and the ventilation was so poor (despite the gaping holes), during the summer the tenants camped in a tent in the backyard.

On top of that, the Neo-Nazis believed it was their "Christian duty" thing to invite homeless people to stay with them.

Their guests stayed in a rusty, non-mobile mobile home situated in their yard (which was visible from the street). They ran big tubes (presumably containing sewage) from the trailer into their house.

The health department even came to investigate them. Twice.

My co-worker is quite happy the house is being torn down now.

Story Time

When I was in high school I entered a writing contest with a satirical story about two bumblers trying to solve a murder mystery. I spent lots of time creating quirky characters with clever lines, making obscure literary references, editing and polishing my work.

I never heard back from the contest sponsors regarding that story.

The next year, when the contest was announced again, I thought about re-entering. Then I remember all the time I spent writing last year's story without even a "Thank you for trying" note.

I decided, "The contest is probably judged by a group of elderly people with no sense of humor. They want something poignant and emotional and blah blah blah."

I sat down at the computer and banged out a story in 45 minutes, written from the perspective of a 12-year old boy. The dialogue was simplistic, the characters were two-dimensional and the plot was predictable. After looking at the finished product I thought, "Geez, this is the worst story I've ever written. There's no wit or cynicism. Where's the snark?"

Fueled by apathy (if that is even possible), I sent it in anyway.

Guess what? I won first place.

I even double-checked the letter and envelope to make sure it was really addressed to me. Until I got my prize money and a certificate with my name and story title printed on it, I had this gnawing fear that they would realize they made a mistake and rescind the prize.

I made $1000 in 45 minutes. (Holy crap I wish that could happen again!)

I was 17, and that was an enormous sum of money to me. Of course, I entered college a few months later and spent $800 on textbooks the first semester.

Oh well, it was good while it lasted.

Wedding Bells Keep Ringing

I went to 3 weddings this summer, and I am attending a fourth one this weekend.

Just today, another friend announced her engagement. Plus, two other couples got engaged in September.

It's a conspiracy, I tell you.

But if there's food, I'm not complaining.

When French Nails Go Wrong

I was sitting on the bus, staring at the floor, when I noticed my neighbor had the most incredible case of toe fungus ever. I wondered why she would even wear open-toed shoes out in public before the infection was cleared up by massive doses of medication.

Then I realized that she had a French manicure, but instead of having the usual white tips, asked for yellow tips.

Oy. She probably thought it would be unusual and attention-getting.

Well, it worked.

Sorry J. M. Barrie

Overheard on the bus (during a conversation between two women in their 20s):

"I'm reading Peter Pan right now. It's really different from the Disney movie. There's all this stuff about Peter Pan being a baby, and not wanting to grow up. Did you know, the guy who wrote Peter Pan was a dwarf?"

"Oh, like those primordial dwarfs?"

"Yeah, the ones that only grow to 3 feet tall? I bet that's why he wrote Peter Pan. Because he couldn't grow up himself."

"Wow."

(I bet she thinks Mark Twain was a pro wrestler, too).

Medical Mystery

I had an appointment today, and I'm starting to think my doctor and her nurse find me weird.

I'm on medication that causes weight gain, but I'm losing weight instead. (I interpreted this to mean I should go out and buy a bag of Kit Kat bars. I'm eating one right now).

After the nurse gave me a shot, she stood there with a band-aid ready, and stared at my arm. A few seconds passed and she started to frown. "Huh, no blood." She then put the band-aid away.

I asked if I could have a band-aid anyway, maybe because I'm a hypochrondriac and I Have a Tiny HOLE in My Arm Now CAN'T YOU SEE!

Actually, no she couldn't. After I came home I pulled the band-aid off to peek at my wound. The prick was about 1 mm away from the edge of the band-aid pad.

Another Kit Kat bar will calm me down.

The Obvious Solution

I used to work as a lab manager at a previous job. I think the building manager in that facility misses me.

He sent an email telling me that someone at my old lab called him in to look a clogged drain. When he got there, that person showed him a sink with several inches of murky water in it.

The building manager reached in and pulled out a drain plug.

I don't think he's very impressed with my replacement.

Subtle or Non-Subtle Advertising?

I find the little digital scrolling display on gas stations creepy now.

They normally say, "Insert card" or something to that effect, and run ads like "Nachos inside!" while you're pumping gas.

The other day I saw one that said "We've got it right inside. Oh thank heaven."

I still don't know what they were selling.

Wolves and Sheep

Listening to men talk in groups can be disturbingly vulgar, but fascinating from an anthropological point of view.

I recently overheard this gem from a group of men talking about a non-present friend, who was "chasing a chunky chick" he picked up at a bar.

Man 1: "He really needed a wingman, you know? When you got a wingman to help you out the wolves can be more selective with the sheep."
Man 2: "Shut up. You're sounding all philosophical and shit."
Man 1: "It ain't philosophical. It's all about picking out the sheep that's limping. Or the one that's gotten too fat to run with the herd."
Man 3: "Haha. Too fat to run is right in this case."

The same group of men, with a different conversation about assertiveness rubbing off on you:

Man 1: "I got more balls since I started living with my wife."
Man 3: "Maybe she gave you hers."
Man 1: "Says the guy who takes it up the ass!"
Man 3: "I still got balls."
Man 1: "Yeah, the ones that touch your ass."
Man 2: "Or the ones that touch your chin! Haha!"

I will never quite understand the other half of my species.

Comfortable Bathing

I Have Hot Water.

Yes!

Mrs. Landlord actually showed up at my house yesterday to wait for the Gas Company guy, after I threatened to move out. I made it clear to her that her duty was not to just let the GC guy in, but to get me hot water. If the GC guy couldn't fix the problem, she was going to buy a brand new water heater that day, and have her husband or a repairman install it. I said, "I can stay here and pay rent for next month, or you can refund me half my September rent and deposit now. It's your choice. I can write you a check next month, or you can write me a check this month."

Mrs. Landlord came over in the morning and I went to work. When I came back, there was a service report from the GC guy on the kitchen table.

It turns out it was a simple pilot light problem. That's what I told them last week.

If they had listened to me last week, when I said, "I think it's the pilot light and I'm willing to take Friday off work to wait for the GC," we wouldn't have been in this mess.

Instead, they dragged their feet and lied to me. In the end, Mrs. Landlord had to take the day off work, drive 170 miles round trip in her giant gas-guzzling SUV to my place, sit in the hot house (without AC) and be so bored out of her mind she cleaned my kitchen.

I have no sympathy for her. She brought this on herself.