I have no reason to post here.
So I'm not.

If I do have something to say that I think is best suited for here-then I'll post.
Otherwise-I won't.

There are other places where I can talk about things.
That's where I'll be.

Here I am

OK-I'm in my new place. Not everything is unpacked-but I can find several pairs of pants. So, that's good. One day, I hope to have a bar in the closet, so I can hang same trousers up.
If I ever get unpacked I should be very happy here. I love the large main room set up. The place is OPEN! Something I had forgotten (if I'd ever known) the joy of having.
I even have enough room for a little dining room set. Not that I'd ever eat there. But, I have this dream of sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, doing the New York Times crossword puzzle on a Sunday morning.
I love a good crossword puzzle, don't you?
Once, I almost completely finished the Monday NYT puzzle. I WAS SO PROUD OF ME!

Coupland is happy here. I'm here. So he's happy. When I'm not here, he's seriously pissed off right now. He's such a Mama's boy that little guy. Got to love him. He's the best doggy ever.
Al is kind of insane and I think he might be evil. At the moment, he is chasing a big around the living room. It's fascinating him like new episodes of House fascinate me. Yeah, kitty is evil. He is Steve the cat's brother from another mother.

The move-I nearly killed myself trying to do it. I would have done without help. Lucky for me, I had help (paid, but whatevs) from one of my co-workers' SO. The two of us worked our asses off, but we got the job done. Just two of us. Before noon on Saturday. I only wrapped my head around that concept about three hours ago. It was rather daunting.

I'm still adjusting to certain things-not having to hide my beer, not dreading the appearance of my landlord, not going out Eastland to get home. But, eh, I'm figuring things out.

ON YR INTERWEBS! SPOILIN YR HARRY POTTER!

My Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom is: Neo from the Matrix gets a large, unsightly bruise and rids the world of Daleks Get your Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!

My Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom is: Harry Potter gives up magic for synchronized swimming with the help of a small force of US Marines Get your Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom

IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME! G-DLESS WIZARDS WITH THEIR MAGIC AND THEIR DEFYING OF THE LORD!

My Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom is: Harry discovers Jesus and becomes a Bishop during the Triwizard Tournament Get your Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom

I'm a little excited. OK?

I sincerely miss those heavy metal bands

OK SRSLY you guyfs. I is tired and frustrated and there is no way in hellz that I will be able to get moved by next weekend at this rate.
Hell fire and brimstone! I don't even have a lease in writing. Just a word. I've been working my ballz off trying to get the place cleaned up and I could not have a place to live yet.
But I've given notice and said I'd be out of here.
So, I have to move by the 1st, wherever it is I do.

And tomorrow is Potterdamurung! DO YOU KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THAT IS?
WAY FUCKIN' IMPORTANT DUDES!

The kitchen, living room and bedroom all look pretty good. Dirty, but painted and tarted up to look presentable.
As I understand it, the cleaning isn't all my responsibility.

The bathroom is a lot like my idea of torture.
I tried to be so tidy about it, but shit, it looks...well, like shit.
The purple is all wrong (too white, I can live with it but I wanted PURPLE!) and it isn't covering the primer as well as the can advertised that it would.
Then, despite all my care, it dripped and I didn't notice until too late and fuckin' hell. I was trying to be so NEAT! AND I FAILED!
I AM A FAIL-Y FAILING FAILURE WHO IS MADE OF 100% PURE AND NATURAL FAIL!!!!1

Makes me cranky.

I'm also covered in paint. It isn't pretty.

And again, I am nowhere near where I want to be in the packing process. It isn't going good.

I don't know how I'm going to work and pack and paint and everything else I need to do. This is all on me, that's the problem. Usually, I want it to be all on me, but I'm SO spoiled. I've always had someone to kick my butt and MAKE me work in situations like this. Ask Mik or Mum-they know how easily distracted I am. I'm the last person you want on your packing team. Hell, you've probably met me, you know. I see and shiny thing and I'm gone. Do you have any idea how many shiny things there are around here?

WAH! WAH! WHIMPER! Poor me! I am SO downtrodden! WHATEVER SHALL I DO?

Just maybe I'm to blame for all I've heard, but I'm not sure

The continuing saga of my saga continues.
Finally, today, after a two day long panic thing that made me unable to achieve REM sleep and in general made me twitchier than usual, I called Stupid Bitch and told her I'm moving.
First-I spoke with the Codes Inspector who is going to try to make a special stop on Saturday to look at the giant gaping hole in the floor. Then-I spoke with Legal Services who told me that based on the situation I should give 30 days written notice but since the Stupid Bitch clearly likes me as much as I like her simply informing her of my impending exit should be sufficient.
SO-with a little liquid courage (tea-good old tea-always go for a nice cup of tea-fixes what ails ya, it does) under my belt I phoned Stupid Bitch.
The conversation went something like this:
ME: "HI *Stupid Bitch* it's *Me*. I've found an apartment. I'll be out by August 1st. I know it's short notice, if it matters that much keep the security deposit. Keep it all. I don't care. I'm moving out."
STUPID BITCH: "OK." *CLICK*

Then my pulse rate sped up, my heart started pounding so hard that my chest ached and I went and locked myself in a stall in the restroom and had dry heaves for 5 minutes.

During that time Stupid Bitch called and told me that she had to inspect the apartment before I moved and if it was in the same condition as when I moved in I would get my deposit back. I don't know if I should call and tell her to wait until after I've moved out. I think I'll just leave her a note.
I'm not betting on seeing any of that money. If I have to be there for that inspection--I really don't want to be there.
And I don't really care about the money. It's $250-$300. $100 is cleaning fee. Won't see that again. $75 is a pet fee. No one ever gets their pet fee back. $125 is actual deposit. I've lived there three years. There's probably $125 worth of stuff that needs repaired. YOU KNOW LIKE THE FUCKIN' FLOOR!

I wish I had some motivation to keep me going after I get home from work. When I get home I'm so tired. Just exhausted, and I try to do work, but it's hard. I think I have a situational depression thing going on. Hiding the cat isn't helping. Everyday, I'm terrified that Stupid Bitch will let herself into the apartment and find the cat. I don't know what I think she'd do, but for some reason I have these irrational (I guess...) fears that she'd do something to Coupland. Accidentally on purpose leave the door open and let him out. To spite me for hiding Al. It gives me nightmares. I can't concentrate at work because I'm afraid she's going to come into the apartment.
Pretty much, I'm freaking the fuck out. I wish I could get at least Al (and maybe Coupland too-but that would be very depressing) out of the place until I moved. If I didn't have to worry about protecting them, well, I can protect myself. They can't.

Between you and me and the lamppost-I think I'm having a little bit of a nervous breakdown.

I'm just a loner baby and now you've gotten in my way

Because I was told by everyone with whom I spoke that I should-I reported my landlady to the Dept. of Codes and Human Safety for having a dilapidated structure.
The points I mentioned:
1) There is a hole big enough for my head to fit through in the bathroom floor. She has seen this hole, my mom made a point of showing it to her. The Bitch told me to put a piece of wood or metal over it so whatever chewed its way through the floor couldn't get into the apartment.
2) The toilet is sinking into the floor. When she was told about this she sent her 90 year old deaf and semi-blind friend over with a screw driver to fix it. When he said he couldn't, she hired some people who brought a tube of caulk and caulked around the base of the toilet. They also added splash bars on the shower and told her the reason the toilet was sinking was because the shower/bathtub leaked. She then called me repeatedly to give me instructions on how to use a shower properly. Because the only possible way there could be a leak coming from a bathtub is if the shower curtain's open. Not because the bathtub is poorly installed or there's a problem with the plumbing. The toilet has also never flushed properly. It backs up ~1 x a week.
3) The whole never had hot water issue. Which is a pretty big one.

Now, I've also got a call in to Consumer Complaints. I'm going to bring up such important points as the ones mentioned above and the fact that she was discriminatory against my family and friends stating that she "didn't want that kind of person" around her house. Since not all my friends are white Christian females, I think I have a pretty good argument that she was acting in a bigoted manner.

I want my security deposit back. And I am going to do whatever it takes to get it.

She has absolutely no idea how capable I am of fucking with someone. I am very tired of being fucked with by that Stupid Bitch and by G-d I'm going to give her a taste of what she's been lucky enough as to avoid for the last three years.

The best part is that, as I understand the law, the inspector doesn't have to find that my complaints have merit (which they do-but SB is a professional slum lord-so I'm sure she knows ALL the loopholes). I have covered my ass by reporting her. I have stated that she called my requests for maintenance unreasonable. A landlord cannot call a request for basic repairs (such as having a floor that is free of gaping holes) unreasonable.

Oooh-baby----this is fun. It makes me feel like this:

No more Mr. Nice Guy

Actual fun quote from an email today regarding a meeting I set up in a kind of fuck you all I'm booking this conference room and you can show up or not I don't give a shit moment:
"As I have told you at least 3 times previous, I am not available before 4pm."
Response I didn't send:
"As I have been refraining from telling you, but I feel you live me no choice: balls or GTFO."

I really don't want to see this guy's balls. I'd rather he just GTFO.

I'd been all day paranoiding that Stupid Bitch would let herself into the apt and find Al. But then I started thinking-wouldn't that be perfect? She would have to evict me in writing (As opposed to verbally) and then I wouldn't have to have an attack about the possibility she might try to sue me when I move out. Dealing with a crazy person with legal rights is no fun. The mentally absent shouldn't be in positions of authority. I say that as person who is mentally distracted at least.

Then I went all spaz on the possibility that the future landlords will back out on the spoken word agreement.
Then, I coped with that by taking my dog to the dog park drinking a couple of beers and watching History Boys on DVD.

I am in love with Stephen Campbell Moore. He's awesome.